


The Untold Love Story of Inanimate Objects

by cyndrarae



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Jared, Exaggerated fangirl behavior, M/M, Physical Disability, Religion bashing, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 5 was supposed to be the end of Supernatural. And after years of being together, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki prepare to part ways with one final getaway. But when Jared meets with a 'freak accident', saying goodbye becomes harder than it already is. Jared needs help healing, lots of it. And Jensen may have the best intentions at heart but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Like, not at all. (Written for bigbang 09, so not compliant with anything in canon since. This is just me porting all my fics over from LJ)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU. Sex, language, violence, exaggerated fangirl behavior, religion-bashing. Other pairings briefly implied: Jared/OMC, Jensen/Danneel, Tom/Jamie, Michael/OFC, Christian/OFC. A non-CW real person-based character included - Kyra Sedgwick (www.imdb.com/name/nm0001718/).

**[Prologue]**  
  
_  
Actor Jared Padalecki, one of the main leads on the hit CW series Supernatural that recently wrapped up its fifth and possibly last season, was rushed to Vancouver General Hospital late last night after a freak accident resulted in both his hands being crushed under the weight of a Toyota Tundra. Padalecki left the crew’s wrap party after more than a few rounds of drinks, only to find a flat rear tire on the truck belonging to fellow actor and friend, Jensen Ackles. Ackles himself is reported to have skipped the party. Eyewitnesses at the scene say despite his bodyguards’ offer to help, an inebriated Padalecki insisted on changing the tire himself. It is not entirely clear why the jack collapsed suddenly just as Padalecki had both his hands positioned under the base of the tire…_  
  
Jensen winces in disgust as he reads the one-column article on page three of The Vancouver Sun, and gives it up mid-way. Chooses instead to look out the window, at the sea of white, fluffy clouds stretched out far as he can see. Warner Brothers’ own private jet, people. Complete with a semi-circle shaped walk-up bar and everything. And God how he needs a drink right the hell now.   
  
Jensen turns to his left then, to look at the man reclining nearly horizontally in a plush bucket seat next to him. His colleague and best friend of five years, the man who made it to all of yesterday’s newspapers and magazines and E!News bulletins for being a complete and total klutz. A drunken one at that.   
  
Jared looks… frail, enveloped in a maroon cashmere blanket that’s large enough to cover him from neck to toe. A black woolen skullcap allows his longish brown hair to curl up at the base of his neck. And his eyes, those beautiful almond eyes, are drooping under the weight of a string of sedatives still coursing through his body.   
  
“Jay? You okay?”  
  
Jared blinks and nods, barely. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the view through his window. Jensen grazes the cold cheek turned his way with the back of his relatively warm hand.   
  
“Would you like something to drink?”  
  
At that, Jared smirks and looks up at him, nuzzling against Jensen’s hand like one of his dogs who unfortunately couldn’t accompany them on this trip. They went home instead to Jared’s folks who, by the way, aren’t happy at all that their son decided to do his recuperation  _on vacation_ , away from the family.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind a vodka martini.”  
  
Jensen smirks back. “Nice try, kiddo. You know what I meant.”  
  
Jared pouts at that, but it’s forced and somewhat empty. He sighs and turns back to his window. “I know, I’m good, thanks.”  
  
“Hey, how about Skittles?” Jensen starts to unbuckle himself out of the seat. “And I think I saw a Hershey’s Dark in the fridge…”  
  
“Mm, nah.”  
  
Jared doesn’t even turn. It makes Jensen halt, decides the drink could wait after all. He bends closer and can’t resist planting a chaste little kiss on the side of Jared’s forehead. “Sure you okay?”  
  
Jared keeps his eyes trained away. “Do you remember that story you told me, last year, when we ran away to Ibiza?”  
  
Jensen chuckles. “In the middle of the season, yeah, I remember.”  
  
“What was it again?”  
  
“Like you don’t know… you’ve made me tell you that same story a hundred times over.”  
  
Jared smiles up at him then, even though it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “I like hearing it.”  
  
Guess there’s no arguing with that. “Alright.”  
  
Jensen pulls a lever by his seat to make it recline until he is at eye level with Jared and then settles on his side until he’s face to face with the younger man. He takes a deep breath, and begins.   
  
“Once upon a time there was a wave, long, and elegant and beautiful, who loved a rock that stood stoic, strong and unmoving by the sea, let us say in the Bay of Capri…”  
  
  
  
  
  
**[I]**    
  


  
She is in the middle of a big wide yawn when the dreamboat walks into her office. She straightens up immediately, pulling her feet off the table and knocking off a pencil, a rolodex and a picture of her husband of six years in the process.   
  
“Doctor Sedgwick?”  
  
For a horrifying moment inside her head, all she can think of as response is  _Who?_  – until her right brain catches up with the left one, or vice versa, whatever. What does she know anyway, she’s only a psychologist, not a neurosurgeon.  
  
“Yes, hi!” She finally squeaks through a jaw hanging all the way to the floor.   
  
The man is really tall, in his late twenties maybe or so his attire of gray knee-length cargos, clean white t-shirt and a well-worn cotton blue shirt hanging over it with sleeves folded up to his elbows would suggest. He’s gripping an iPhone in one hand, and black Police sunglasses in the other. Clean shaven and gorgeous and… sweet God the depths of those captivating green eyes…   
  
_Wow._    
  
She can feel all the blood rushing up to her face and one hand flies up reflexively to fix her hair. “C-can I help you?”  
  
The man doesn’t crack a smile. Fact he looks a bit annoyed, like he’s quite used to getting a reaction like this and has seen one too many middle-aged women stutter and fumble and in general make total fools of themselves at the sight of him.   
  
“I’m your 2 o’clock?”  
  
Kyra frowns, struggles with the silver chain holding her glasses around her neck before she manages to perch them on her nose, and looks through her printed schedule for the day.   
  
_2.00pm: Padalecki, referral from Dr. Bristow, Vancouver CA. Possible PTSD. Extreme discretion advised._  
  
“But I thought you called and canceled?”  
  
“Yeah, well. Plans change.”  
  
“And I’m glad for it,” Kyra cracks, awkwardly, gets no response. The man calmly, gracefully, takes a seat across her desk and she automatically drops into her own chair, still having a category six blonde moment that she’s never been accused of having ever before, by the way. Not to her face.  
  
“So, uh, I’m sorry, you will have to excuse my, uh, lack of preparation here. I was under the impression we were not having these sessions so I didn’t…”  
  
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
This gorgeous hunk of a man is yet to return any of her smiles. He has the airs of a true Hollywood star, which of course, figures. But Kyra prides herself on her judgment of people and something tells her the brooding and assholery on full display right now may not come as easily to this man as it does to the rest of them. In fact, it may just have something to do with the reason why he’s sitting in a shrink’s office.   
  
“Your doctor back in Vancouver did give me a brief idea about the… uh… your experience. I’m very sorry.”  
  
The man slumps in the old mahogany chair and looks around the room. Seems to take a liking to the full-length windows with the dazzling ocean view. In fact, he’s instantly obsessed with it.  
  
“I think it’s a great idea to combine therapy with your much needed, well-deserved break here in Pebble Beach. I don’t know how you can afford it but obviously, I’m not complaining!”  
  
And she’s still the only one laughing. Kyra’s never had to try so hard to break the ice with a client before. By this time she’s usually earned a little chuckle or at least a snort for her efforts.   
  
“I understand you have a very good and popular show going up there?”  
  
The man does scoff then, in a tone that is cynical and derisive. But that’s it. Kyra taps her newly manicured fingers, waits.  
  
“You have to forgive me, I don’t really watch television so much.”  
  
“It’s why you were chosen. The last thing I need right now is another fan of that damn show, thank you very much.”  
  
Kyra sighs, her heart going out to the lost, faraway look on the beautiful face turned away from her, in a way that it does to all her clients really. Which, by the way, is what makes her a very sucky therapist.  _Allegedly_. She gets too close. Every damn time. And never learns. Those rain-soaked puppy dog eyes aren’t helping either.  
  
“Would you like to start with talking about the, uh, what happened with you, Mr. Padalecki?”  
  
The man finally turns toward her, his expression still blank. “My name is Jensen. Jensen Ackles.”  
  
Kyra frowns, looks down at her schedule again. “Oh I’m sorry, I think there may have been a mistake in my notes here…”  
  
“Your notes are fine. Jared Padalecki is supposed to come to these sessions. Jared Padalecki is the one who had what you’re calling –” he puts up both his hands to make air quotes – “the experience.”  
  
The doctor blinks a couple of times. “And who are you?”  
  
“Another actor on the show. Me and Jared, we… we’re… we’re vacationing here together.”  
  
Kyra slides a little to her right, hoping to steal a glance outside her glass door and at the lobby outside. Her assistant better be still sitting there, within earshot in case she needs to scream for help.  
  
“Okay, Mr. Ackles. May I ask what you’re doing here?”  
  
The man smiles at last. Smirks is more like it. “Well, since our beloved TV network is so generously shelling out the dough for such an expensive, top-class Pebble Beach resident shrink, I figured someone might as well use it. Right?”  
  
Kyra grimaces and stands up, getting ready to page her assistant  _and_  some security in. “I don’t think that’s how this works, Mr. Ackles.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
She exhales impatiently. “Well, for one, we can’t just sit around here discussing the weather for sixty minutes three times a week! What exactly do you want to accomplish through these sessions anyway?”  
  
“Help me help him.”  
  
Her finger that’s about to press the ‘speak’ button on her intercom pauses mid-air.   
  
“W-What?”  
  
Jensen looks straight into her eyes, just for a second, before looking away back at the window and gesturing at it. “Does this open?”  
  
Without waiting for an answer, he stands up, walks over and lifts the latch to let the cool ocean breeze flood her office. Not that it’s ever stuffy or stale-aired in here. Then he pulls a pack of red Marlboros out of his pocket, and lights up. So much for getting some fresh air.  
  
“Mr. Ackles, I’m sorry I…”  
  
“Jared is not gonna talk, Doctor Sedgwick. He is the most talkative kid I know, but when it comes to this, he… just… won’t. Acts like it is no big deal. Almost like it never happened.”  
  
Ah. Kyra lets the sounds of the waves and the wind do the talking for a few seconds that follow. The man does have a point about the, ahem, hefty fees their network, WC or something, is shelling out, and she suspects most of it is just for her discretion and confidentiality. But more than that, this man, this gorgeous perfection of a man, seems to genuinely want to help his friend.   
  
Kyra bites her lip and squints. Interesting case this, Padalecki, even if it’s a rather simple one, and pretty straightforward. Or so she thinks.  
  
“You can’t smoke in here.”  
  
Ackles doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn to face her. “Sure I can.”   
  
And that’s all he says. Kyra shakes her head and lets the man stare out into the ocean that’s as green and restless as his own eyes.  
  
She stares at his ass instead.  
  
  
  
  
  
**[II]**  
  


  
He takes the long way back to their hotel, the Inn at the Spanish Bay, driving a red Porsche he rented earlier this morning. Red’s really not his color, but it is Jared’s, and Jensen hopes to be able to interest him in a long drive sometime, maybe today. If Jared feels up to it. Of course, there isn’t much Jared feels up to these days.  
  
It’s nearly four in the afternoon but the sun’s still out. Bright, like they still have all the time in the world to laze about at the beach, or go sailing, or play golf like they’d originally planned to. Of course, all that is out of the question now.   
  
He steps out of the lift and nods to the two bodyguards posted outside the door to their luxurious suite. Network’s never been so  _not_  stingy before and he sure could get used to it. The bodyguards happen to be brand new too, also provided by the network. Old ones got fired, including Cliff, not so long ago.   
  
He unlocks the door and steps in.   
  
“Jay?”  
  
Panic sets in almost immediately when he gets no response. Jensen drops the key card on the nearest table and walks through the foyer to the dining room, then practically runs until he reaches the bedroom only to find it empty too. His heart is already starting to race when the sound of soft close-lipped grunting reaches his ears. Relief courses through his bloodstream before he shakes his head, then heads into the bathroom.   
  
“Hey… you okay?”  
  
Jared turns to him, slightly taken aback. And more than slightly embarrassed. But that’s the least of Jensen’s concerns right now. All he sees is a grown man with a little boy’s face, flushed and pale all at once, standing in front of the toilet bowl. His gray sleep t-shirt is bunched up and held in place by his chin that’s pressed into his chest. With his hands, stuck in the orthopedic splints as they are, he’s clearly been trying for awhile to undo the drawstrings on this sweatpants. And failing miserably.   
  
“Oh, baby.”  
  
“I’m fine. You don’t have to…”  
  
It’s too late to protest. Jensen is already by his side, gently taking hold of Jared’s wrists like they were the most delicate china his grandmother ever owned, and moving them to his sides. Jared grimaces and turns his head away, letting Jensen undo his pants for him so he could go.  
  
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d still be napping.”  
  
Last night was nightmare night. So Jensen honestly thought, going by the pattern so far, that Jared would sleep longer today.  
  
“Where were you?”  
  
There is a mild accusation in Jared’s voice, and Jensen is actually glad to hear it. The way he’d been acting since the… since getting out of the hospital, it’s become such a rarity to see the old Jared surface – the one who is always complaining, griping, bitching or at the very least opinionating about one thing or another. Unlike this new Jared that rarely seems to mind anything, doesn’t complain about or want for anything even when he’d be absolutely justified to do so.   
  
“I, uh, went out for a walk.”  
  
“With Tom?”  
  
“Alone.”  
  
All this time, Jensen busies himself with sliding Jared’s sweats and boxers down until they drop to the floor around the younger man’s ankles. He keeps his head lowered, knowing he’ll only find Jared looking up at the ceiling, biting his lip, and doing everything possible to mentally remove himself from this situation.   
  
“Come on, Jay,” he whispers. “How long have we been together again?”  
  
Jared just breathes deeply and rapidly, avoiding eye contact, now holding his t-shirt up with his bandaged hands. That much he can manage. Jensen quietly moves behind the taller man and presses up against him. Kisses the back of his neck, nuzzles the soft curls of auburn settled there before resting his chin on Jared’s tremor-racked shoulder.   
  
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”  
  
Jensen holds Jared out so he can take a piss. And all the while, he keeps talking. Anything to help Jared distract himself.  
  
“How’re the palms?”  
  
“As they were this morning, and yesterday.”  
  
“I meant –”  
  
“And the day before that.”  
  
Jensen sighs and lets it be. So Jared is the one to talk instead.   
  
“Why don’t you just go tomorrow?”  
  
“Go where?”  
  
“Didn’t Tom book the Links for y’all for like, eight hours or something? You should go.”  
  
“I ain’t going without you. Not unless you wanna come watch me tee off…”  
  
“Sorry, I’ve got some heavy reading to catch up on.”  
  
Jensen snorts. “Yeah. Right. Don’t worry, it’s not like we’re paying for  _anything_.”  
  
“They really want us back for season six and Tom and Rosie for ten that bad, huh?”  
  
Jensen swallows as he stands out of his friend’s sight – yeah, that is one reason of course, but it’s not the only reason and Jared knows it. Guilt sure helps loosen purse strings like nothing else does. They’d even had their hotel bookings upgraded from Executive Suite to the Presidential Suite and everything. It’s especially perfect because it has an attached terrace that faces the magnificent ocean front, a spacious living room with an elaborate entertainment center, and a fully stocked island kitchen that would make the women in their lives very, very happy if only they could see it.   
  
Except Danneel, maybe. She doesn’t like to cook.  
  
When Jared is done, Jensen bends to the floor, pulls up the pants and ties them back in place, making his buddy decent again. Jared manages to glance at Jensen once, briefly, parts his lips as if to say something but doesn’t. Instead he turns away and starts to walk out of the bathroom.   
  
“Don’t forget to wash your hands.”  
  
Jensen smirks. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Jensen gestures at the palatial bathtub and folds his arms, waiting for Jared to fight him on it. Almost hoping he would – anything to get Jared to explode. And for a moment it looks like he’s about to get his wish. But then Jared bites his lower lip again, and actually pouts. It’s adorable as hell.   
  
“I know guys who don’t shower for weeks.”  
  
“Well, you ain’t one of them.”  
  
“What about… these?”  
  
Jensen looks down at the outstretched hands, all that long-fingered elegance now hidden under fat ugly hospital-white splint bandages that cover Jared’s palms from the beginning of his wrists up to the second knuckles of his fingers. Jensen feels the hot sting of ugly memories prickling behind his pupils again, but pushes it away vehemently.   
  
“I got an idea.”  
  
Five minutes later, they are sitting by the baby grand in the living room, and Jared is laughing as he watches Jensen eagerly swathe sheets of bubble-wrap on both his hands.   
  
“Oh yeah, that’s a stroke of genius alright.”  
  
Jensen mock-scowls at his sarcastic but amused friend, keeps one ear to the sound of water running in the bathroom in the background.   
  
“I wanna pop some.”  
  
Jensen lets out a theatrically cynical snort that basically translates to a ‘yeah right’. Jared narrows his eyes.   
  
“You can’t keep making all decisions unilaterally, you know. I might be temporarily disabled but I still got rights.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t bother to tell his buddy to can the soap opera, he’s actually kind of glad for a reaction, any reaction, from Jared.  
  
“Fine, you can stomp ‘em to death later. Now come on baby, water’s getting cold.”  
  
It never ceases to amaze Jensen how Jared manages to blush from his face right down to the base of his neck even now, after four years of fucking and having seen each other naked on countless occasions. It doesn’t occur to him then, that, Jensen also watches like he was watching Jared get naked for the first time.   
  
He watches as Jared shakes his overgrown hair loose after Jensen pulls his t-shirt over his head, undoes his pants again while Jared kicks off his flip-flops and then awkwardly folds his long, lean body into the magnificent bathtub. He keeps his hands hanging out at the sides wincing a little and making Jensen wonder if the painkillers might be wearing off already.   
  
“Took your meds after lunch?”  
  
“Yes,  _dad_.”  
  
And that’s his cue to drop it. Usually Jared doesn’t mind being taken care of at all, in fact, he thrives on the attention that Jensen (or anyone really) might choose to lavish on him. But that was the old Jared.   
  
Jensen turns off the faucets and picks up a washcloth instead. He shrugs out of his blue summer shirt and kneels on the floor beside the tub next to Jared, quietly ruing the lack of his own nakedness. On any other day, before last week that is, this would be the moment that Jared would turn on his charms, flirt with Jensen shamelessly, coaxing the older man to come join him in the tub. And Jensen would have groaned and sighed and tried to, rather  _pretended_  to try to resist before happily giving in.   
  
But that was also the old Jared. This Jared just sits there, staring into nothingness, not shunning Jensen’s touches but not quite encouraging them either.   
  
“I really wish you’d go, Jensen. I don’t want you missing out on the very reason you wanted to come here in the first place.”  
  
Jensen soaps up the washcloth and starts running it across Jared’s smooth, hairless chest. His other hand cups the back of Jared’s neck and strokes the moist skin there lovingly.   
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Jensen wants to tell him that there’ll be other vacations, other Pebble Beaches, but he knows that would be a lie. “Besides, I wanted you to practice so you’d stop sucking so much.”  
  
Jared snorts. “Go teach Chris. His handicap’s higher than mine. And he’s been at it for longer than I have, right?”  
  
Ever the competitive spirit. “That’s right Jay, you’re a champ. I’m so proud of you.”  
  
Jared cracks a lopsided smile then, and it’s almost like the old Jared. But it disappears just as quickly and Jensen feels the sting behind his eyes return. Quietly he bathes Jared, caressing every inch of wet naked skin accessible to him, cataloguing the multiple scars and wounds on the man’s beautiful body. The stitched-in gash on the right temple – the one made with an iron wrench to knock him out. The cuts and scrapes Jared suffered as his body was dragged through the ice and woodchips and rubble. The rope burns on the wrists and ankles – mostly gone now but in his head Jensen can still see them as fresh as they’d been three days ago. And of course the hands...   
  
Jensen jerks himself back to the present, noticing how Jared is suddenly sitting up straighter in the tub as Jensen’s hands stroke the back and front of his torso together, in synchrony, slowly heading downwards until a hand is hovering just over Jared’s crotch. Jensen drops his voice to a whisper – the kind that he knows always gets to his lover.   
  
“Something you want, Jay?”  
  
Jared breathes heavily but wrenches his gaze away. Jensen knows he probably wants to cross his arms and hug himself right about now but he can’t get the bandages wet. Jensen leans in closer just as his hand dips into the water and casually brushes against the head of the semi-aroused erection he finds there. Jared gasps soundlessly, and finally looks up with pleading eyes at Jensen.  
  
“I got you, Jay. It’s okay.”  
  
Jensen settles on his haunches beside the tub, not caring that he’s getting wet with all the water he’s splashed himself. One hand finds its way into Jared’s hair again, scratching his scalp just the way Jared likes it. Jensen wraps the fingers of his other hand around Jared’s shaft, starting from the base and slowly but firmly pumping downward until he reaches the head. There he uses a thumb to tease the pre-cum leaking tip, rubbing incessant circles into it that he knows will drive Jared crazy in three, two, one…  
  
“Ah! Jen…”  
  
Jensen smiles, tugging at Jared’s hair until his head is thrown back and his mouth is in perfect position for Jensen to take. And so he does more than eagerly.  
  
The kiss is long and deep and passionate, tongues dueling and swirling around each other in a dance that’s rhythmic and synchronous with the way Jensen’s hand works away at Jared’s cock. He pulls and pumps the shaft, strokes the sensitive tip a number of times before repeating it all over again. Jared squirms and shudders in his place in the tub, his legs twitching uselessly and splashing more water to the floor. One of his hands moves reflexively towards the water but Jensen catches it just in time before the bandage could get wet and pushes it back to the side. He resumes pleasuring his boyfriend and makes it last for as long as Jared can handle it. Soon enough, Jared moans into Jensen’s mouth and drags his lips away as he struggles to breathe. His cock spasms and ejaculates in Jensen’s fist and Jensen keeps working him until he’s all emptied out. Exhausted, Jared closes his eyes and collapses against the wall of the tub. Jensen earlier had placed a rolled up towel perfectly to cushion the back of Jared’s head where it lands.   
  
He uses both hands then – one wet, the other dry, to caress the younger man’s face, brushing the stray strands of hair back and massaging the back of his ears lovingly. When he lowers himself to take Jared’s lips with his own again, he half expects to be turned away, but isn’t. Jared kisses him softly, slowly, like they have all the time in the world. He crosses his temporarily disabled hands behind Jensen’s neck, resting his forearms on Jensen’s shoulders, and holds him close, kissing for what feels like an eternity that passes way too quickly when the boys have to release each other for some much-needed air.  
  
Jared smiles, eyes glazed over. “Dude, we gotta change the water right fucking now.”  
  
Jensen laughs, waits for Jared to pull the stopper with one giant foot and meanwhile he goes back to kissing the plumped lips again.   
  
Somewhere in the suite, a phone rings and seeing how the boys are busy, the machine picks it up. Tom Welling’s voice echoes through to the bathroom.   
  
“Yo Wincesters! Stop screwing like bunnies on acid for a second and listen up. Tomorrow begins with brunch at the Lodge, ten sharp. No later than that, you hear?”  
  
Jared raises his eyebrows. “Wincesters?”  
  
Jensen makes his whatever-face and tries to dive back into the kiss again.  
  
“Oh and by the way, Chris couldn’t get through to your cell phones so he called Rosie instead. He’s flying in tonight – just a little heads up ‘cause I know you’re gonna need it.”  
  
The voice snickers softly but the boys stopped paying attention to him long ago. Jared strokes down the front of Jensen’s chest with the back of his bandaged hands and Jensen, taking the hint, pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor.   
  
“Get your clubs and everything and we’ll drive down to the Links together. Alright, see you then. I’m so looking forward to kicking your skinny asses tomorrow. Especially you, Jare’. It’s payback time, kiddo!”  
  
Welling hangs up, just as Jensen feels Jared freeze up beside him. He catches the younger man glancing at his hands with a… numb and almost disregarding look. It’s like the temperature in the room drops several degrees. Jensen swallows, and even if words don’t come easy to him, he tries to do what the shrink lady said he should –  _talk_.  
  
“We’re gonna have to tell them, you know.”  
  
Jared doesn’t respond.   
  
“Hey, you’re the one who insisted we stick to the plan and come to Pebble Beach. You knew the gang would show up one week later.”  
  
Jared exhales and looks up into Jensen’s eyes. And he shrugs. “Okay.”  
  
_Huh?_  
  
“But I don’t wanna go there. Why don’t you call them over instead? We’ll have brunch here.”  
  
“Wait, you’re… sure you’re okay with it?”  
  
“Sure. Why not? They’re our friends. We can’t avoid them forever.”  
  
Jared shrugs again, like they were discussing Paris Hilton and he couldn’t possibly care any less. Jensen is starting to really hate it when he does that.   
  
The backhanded pawing returns as if it’d never stopped, and a confused Jensen looks up from the bandaged hands to Jared nodding longingly at a bottle of American Crew nearby.   
  
“Wash my hair?”  
  
  
  
  
  
**[iii]**  
  


  
“Doctor Sedgwick’s office?”  
  
Anna, the temp receptionist, is barely listening to a word her caller says. She’s too busy making sexy come-hither eyes at Jensen.   
  
“Stupid horny bitch,” Sedgwick mutters as she peeps through her expensive wooden Venetian blinds out at the waiting lobby. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to keep Mr. Ackles waiting after all.   
  
She smoothens her short skirt down her thighs and checks her lip gloss, pauses to gather herself before pulling open the door.   
  
“Mr. Ackles, hi! Sorry to keep you waiting.”  
  
The actor doesn’t seem to have noticed at all, bummer. He walks in and she closes the door behind him, relishing the look of envious longing on the temp’s face.   
  
“So, how’ve you…”  
  
“He said okay.”  
  
Kyra is lost. “Who said what?”  
  
He paces back and forth a short distance from the couch to the full-length window, closer and closer to the ocean with every round. He doesn’t train those stormy green eyes of his at Kyra at all, not once.   
  
“Jared. He said, okay. I said we’re gonna have to talk about  _it_  to our friends. And he said  _okay_.”  
  
“Huh,” Kyra frowns. “That… actually sounds like good news?”  
  
He continues to pace even as he turns to practically glower at her, like she’s supposed to be psychic, not a psychologist.   
  
“Well, it’s not.”  
  
“It’s not?”  
  
“You’re not a very good shrink are you?”  
  
Oh for Pete’s sake!   
  
“Mr. Ackles, this isn’t exactly a normal counseling case. I haven’t even met who I’m supposed to be really counseling and you acting like proxy-Jared isn’t helping as much as you might think.”  
  
“Why not? I’m telling you everything you need to know – so what’s the problem?”  
  
Kyra sighs and sits down behind her desk. “The problem is that I don’t know whose issues we’re dealing with from one moment to the next – Jared’s or yours.”  
  
Ackles pauses then, with his back turned to the doctor. He puts his hands in his perfectly fitted jeans pockets and stays quiet for the longest time.   
  
“Jay… I know you don’t know him, Doc. But he  _talks_. Everyone knows that, his fans that haven’t ever fucking met him know that. He can talk at like two hundred words a minute and make absolute sense and he’s got no censor control whatsoever.”  
  
Kyra doesn’t know where this is going yet. “It’s the mark of an honest man, they say, being so talkative.”  
  
Ackles turns towards her once, and smiles. “If honest is talking without stopping to think or not choosing your words carefully then yeah, that he is.”  
  
And then he walks back towards her, instinctively making her want to hold her breath.   
  
“The Jared I once knew never used full stops or commas and he could ramble on forever and ever! Now all his sentences are no more than five words. Something is wrong, Doctor Sedgwick. He’s slow, careful, almost… clinical.”  
  
“Clinical how?”  
  
“Like…” he sighs and looks back at the ocean. “He says all the right fucking things that he thinks I want to hear, or his doctors want to hear, or his family expects him to say.”  
  
Ah. Kyra pushes her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. Familiar territory at last.  
  
“He’s disassociating his feelings from his words. And because he’s smart, he’s using just the right words to dissuade any questions or discussions about his real issues. Those are classic signs of post traumatic stress.”  
  
He winces, almost as if the last three words coming out of her mouth had hit him like he’d actually been, physically, uh, hit.   
  
Kyra smiles and shakes her head. “But you already knew that. I wonder if you already know what I’m going to say next too.”  
  
Ackles crosses his arms again and waits.   
  
“Jared is suppressing his emotions instead of dealing with them, right. But he isn’t the only one.”  
  
The man doesn’t react.  
  
“If you want to help him, you’re gonna have to help yourself first,  _Jensen_.”  
  
She’s hoping the use of his first name would help build the doctor-client relationship she just proposed. For a moment, Ackles frowns almost angrily and looks like he wants to protest, fight the allegation that he needs a shrink about as much as his good friend, who by the way, might be more than just a friend to Jensen, or so Kyra suspects. A few seconds later, his eyebrows go up and come back down again.   
  
“I know I feel guilty.”  
  
“You’re not the one who hurt Jared.”  
  
“I could’ve been there.”  
  
“You had no way to know.”  
  
“This is such a clichéd conversation.”  
  
“You started it.”  
  
Ackles pulls out a cigarette before sprawling himself across her plush tan leather couch. God, he looks so fucking fuckable laid out like this…  
  
She clears her throat and crosses her legs.   
  
“You know there’s no smoking in here.”  
  
He studies her for a few seconds; then rises to come over to her side of the desk. Kyra glares at the open box of cigarettes being held out in offering.   
  
“Oh, what the hell.”   
  
They both light up.  
  
  
  
********

**(tbc)**


	2. Chapter 2

  
**[iv]**

  
Chris and Mike sit at the rosewood dining table across from Jared. Their latest respective arm-candies have been conveniently sent off for a relaxing and rejuvenating day at the spa. All expenses paid for by the CW, of course.   
  
Jensen stands at their beautiful kitchen island whipping egg whites with half an eye watching his boy. Tom and his wife Jamie are helping him get brunch ready, stealing kisses every time they cross each other and not as discretely as they probably think. Jensen would find it sweet if he wasn’t used to the loving couple’s antics already. Besides, Jared is all he can think about right now. All he is worried sick about.   
  
Chris taps his feet on the floor, quite audibly at that, still trying to take it all in. Michael got to know last night along with Tom and Jamie, and since he’s had time to process it, he looks like he’s almost aching to reach out and… do something, squeeze Jared’s hand, hug him maybe… not that Jared looks like he’d allow it. And Jared, Jared just sits there, spine straight, broken hands resting in his lap. Watching the game on TV for the most part but whenever he does look at Chris once in a while, he looks him in the eye, as if challenging him to react. Say something. Anything.   
  
The old Jared would have spent the enforced, awkward silence fidgeting, shaking both knees near-violently, sighing and pouting pathetically, making weird-ass faces regardless of whether anyone was watching or not. The old Jared would have started whining after half a minute about how he couldn’t stand the freaking suspense and could they just get it over with and eat already? The old Jared would have been a complete and utter pest about it even as he relished the multiple spotlights, seeing how he practically thrived on attention and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he was ignored.   
  
‘Course, the old Jared isn’t here anymore.   
  
Jensen swallows bitterly and turns away, focuses on his mom’s recipe for French toast that Jared loves. Least the old one did.  
  
“Wow…” Chris is the one that starts.   
  
Tom and Jamie pull away from each other but instead of turning towards the table, they both look at Jensen.   
  
Chris stretches his arms up and behind his back. “Well, about time you got yourself some war wounds, son.”  
  
Jensen shakes his head, and Tom looks pissed already.   
  
Michael clears his throat. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Jay.”  
  
Jared nods at him. “Thanks.”  
  
“Scandal like this could either kill your sissy little show, or turn it into a fucking legend. How did you guys manage to keep it out of the papers this long?” Chris asks, genuinely curious.   
  
When no one else responds, Michael decides to supply an explanation. “Well, you know the story that went out instead. The network managed to pull some strings with the Canadian authorities to hush it all up, pass it off as a tragic accident or something. Those girls were actually twin sisters, and minors. Parents are rich and politically connected with their own reputations at stake. They were more than happy to play along in exchange for clemency, I guess.”   
  
Another few minutes pass in more uncomfortable silence. Jamie is barely breathing and Jensen rubs her shoulders briefly as they cross paths.   
  
“So you guys told Tom and Jamie and Rosie here last night, but waited until today to tell me, why?”  
  
Jensen gives Christian the look. Kane is one of his best friends, they have so much in common and their friendship goes way, way back, before he even knew anyone else in this room. Which is precisely why he knows how tactless and abrasive Chris can be.   
  
“I thought I was the best friend,” Chris sulks.   
  
“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Tom starts but Jensen puts a hand on his arm. Welling and Kane have never gotten along, ever. And just like Chris happens to be Jensen’s best friend, Tom happens to be Jared’s close and extremely protective buddy, the guy Jay runs to when he needs to get away from the Supernatural crew. Or Jensen – when they fight.  
  
“Stop griping like the old man you are, Kane. You flew in yesterday and we thought you might be, you know, tired or jetlagged…”  
  
“I flew in from Oregon.”  
  
“Alright fine, besides…” Jensen looks at Jared, who is still just… sitting there. Jensen barely mumbles the next part, “It ain’t my thing to tell,” before turning back to his eggs. He feels Jared’s eyes burn into the back of his neck just for a second, and then it’s gone.   
  
Chris seems to accept that, but he isn’t done yet. “So, who were they? Dean girls or Sam girls?”  
  
“Christian…” Jensen calls out softly, warningly. And the country singer turned actor smirks.   
  
“Dean girls then?”  
  
Nobody confirms or denies it. And truth is, no matter what the facts are Kane will find a way to twist them to suit the joke he’s about to crack and that only he would find funny.   
  
Chris smirks. “What… they thought they were helping Dean out? Do the right thing since Dean is too much of a sissy little wimp to do it himself?”  
  
Surprisingly, Jared supplies the answer this time. “Something like that.”  
  
“Huh, look how easy that was! And I don’t even watch your crappy show.”  
  
Jensen wants to add, ‘neither do we’ but keeps his trap shut and waits for Jared to field it instead.   
  
Jared doesn’t.   
  
“So you got jumped by two seventeen year old  _girls_?”  
  
Tom is looking really agitated now. “Kane, just…”   
  
“And they were working as PAs on your set all week?”  
  
Jamie shushes her husband quietly.  
  
“And no one noticed? Sonofabitch. Looks like WB’s really sliding down the value chain, son. Least we had better than suck-ass security back on Angel.”  
  
“Good thing you’re on TNT now.”   
  
 _Atta boy_ , Jensen thinks, and tries hard not to snigger at the sheer nonchalance in Jared’s voice. He hands over the milk and eggs mix to Jamie to let her do the rest while he goes over to chop up the strawberries. Least that way he’ll be facing the table instead of away from it.   
  
Chris narrows his eyes at Jared, as if interrogating him. “And this happened where?”  
  
Michael exhales loudly, “He just told you, man. At the wrap party, can we just drop it –“  
  
Chris ignores the interruption like it never happened. “And how drunk were you exactly?”  
  
Jared stares right back. “Very.”  
  
A couple of seconds pass in peace and just when Tom is about to start breathing again, Chris turns toward them. “And where were  _you_ , man?”  
  
Jensen puts the knife down calmly. He’d rather not serve up his own finger for brunch today. “I was at the airport, on my way back to LA.”  
  
Deliberately, resolutely, Jensen keeps his eyes away from Jared when he says that. Chris nods like he’s deliberating over the facts, spacing out for a bit and then just as suddenly snaps out of it.   
  
“So, can we see ‘em?”  
  
Tom loses it then. “For fuck’s sake, Kane, you realize the plasters won't come off just to satisfy your curiosity, so can you just stop being an asshole already?”  
  
“What? Don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s curious!”  
  
“…”  
  
“Come on, it could be kinda cool man, I actually wanted to get a tattoo done just like that…”  
  
The comment is plainly tuned out by everyone at once. Michael gets up from the table in disgust and comes over to the kitchen area.   
  
Jensen finally gathers enough courage to look at Jared then, only to find absolutely no change in the blank expression on his face. He might as well still be in that cold Vancouver hospital room sedated to his eyeballs, the way he’s been acting all day today.   
  
Brunch is delayed by about an hour because Jensen and Jared sleep in these days and once they do wake up Jensen tends to Jay first, before anything else, and because Tom is really no help in the kitchen other than boiling water. Thank God Jamie came over earlier today and ended up handling most of it herself. The men help set the table, it’s the least they can do, and place Jensen right next to Jared, as always.   
  
“Everything looks great, James.” It’s the first thing Jared says today that’s not an answer to someone’s question and Jensen rejoices silently. James is Jared’s nickname for Jamie. At first it was only meant to draw a pitchy annoyed reaction out of her, but then it stuck and now Jamie doesn’t mind it herself. Hell, she might actually like it.  
  
“Thank you, sweetie. I hope it turned out okay and…” Something occurs to her then and Jamie frowns. “Jay, your hands, how are you going to…?”  
  
Jensen walks up to the table, “Don’t worry James, I got it.”   
  
Chris looks around their luxurious suite and through the glass doors to the attached terrace. “Where is your nurse or, uh, medical person?”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Whoever’s taking care of Jay?”  
  
Jensen shrugs. “I’m taking care of Jay.”  
  
Chris laughs like a joke was cracked or something. And then he looks at Jensen’s solemn face and stops abruptly. “You’re serious?”  
  
Jensen ignores Chris and instead watches Jared lower his eyes back into his lap and leave them there, sitting as still as a statue. His heart aches because he knows this is not easy for Jared, as proud and hurting as he is. And it is only about to get harder, doing what they are about to do in front of his friends. Correction – in front of Chris.   
  
They help themselves to the food and Michael starts off with a story about his latest girlfriend and a disastrous shopping trip, which keeps everyone engaged for a while. Even Chris participates, pitches in with his stories of Christmas shopping nightmares.   
  
Jensen serves up a little of everything on a plate – the French toast that he made and is super proud of, shrimp salad, the sausages Tom spent  _ages_  browning, Jamie’s heavenly Italian egg bake, mini cream cheese and olive (and some sneaked in ham) sandwiches, fresh fruit with three large dollops of whipped cream on top, and hash browns. He skips the mimosas since Jared’s still on strong meds and pours two glasses of OJ for the both of them, pulls his chair closer to Jared and twists it around so he is facing him more than the others.   
  
By that time everyone else is in the middle of an argument, something about where the name Poor Boy Sandwich came from, and hardly paying the two any attention. Jensen zones them out, gladly, focuses completely on Jared.   
  
Jared stares at the loaded fork held out for him for awhile. When he raises his head to look at Jensen, he makes the older man’s heart ache like a bitch. That lost look has no place in those beautiful brandy eyes, Sam’s maybe, sure. But not Jared’s.   
  
“I’m not hungry,” he whispers, so softly no one but Jensen hears it.   
  
“That’s a physical impossibility, Jay. Besides, look, it’s mama Ackles’ fruity French toast!” Jensen tries brightly, even though his voice is nothing more than a whisper himself.   
  
Jared just stares at the fork emptily.  
  
“Come on, I slaved all morning for this, least try it and tell me how it is?”  
  
Jared swallows, and taking one self-conscious look at the rest of the group, he turns to Jensen, opens his mouth and lets Jensen feed him a bite of the toast soaked generously in maple syrup. There is something incredibly soft and surreal about this moment – just like every moment they’ve spent together since… well, here in Pebble Beach. Every moment has been a revelation in and of itself. Jensen never thought he could be a good caregiver before and he suspects Jared is surprised too. The punk always thought of Jensen as being too laidback (read: too lazy) and kind of slightly, if not entirely, self-absorbed.   
  
He continues to fork more bites of food into Jared’s mouth, and even though it’s slow going and Jared doesn’t seem to be as enthusiastic about Jensen’s cooking today as he usually is, Jensen feels a tiny sense of accomplishment every time Jared opens his mouth for him. Soon as the thought occurs to him, Jensen can’t stop himself from grinning. If he’d said it out loud, that would have come out a lot dirtier than he intended it to be.   
  
“That’s it, just a couple more bites, baby.”  
  
Jensen wipes the corner of the younger man’s lips with a napkin. To his absolute surprise, his gentleness is rewarded with Jared suddenly looking up and right at him. For a moment, Jensen sees a flash of the old Jay flickering in those eyes. It’s a moment in which all seems right with the world… just the way it should always be.   
  
“OH MY GOD… you’re fucking him aren’t you???”  
  
 _Christian Kane, ladies and gentlemen._  
  
Jensen sighs deeply before putting the fork down, and turns to his childhood friend whose face has just about turned red with part mortification and, evidently, a whole lot of revulsion. Jensen fixes him with a hard look but feels no need to justify himself, or what he and Jared share.  
  
Everyone around the table falls eerily quiet.   
  
A second later Chris stands up, pushing away from the table and looks around at the rest of the group. His frown further deepens, if that were even possible. “You all know, don’t you? How… what… oh my fucking Jesus! You  _all_  knew?”  
  
Michael simply smirks up at him. Tom’s eyes worriedly flit between Jared and Chris, clearly more interested in Jared’s well-being than Chris’ newest spectacle. Jamie just bites her lip and pushes the eggs around on her plate.   
  
Chris goes after Jensen first. “How long?”  
  
“Sit down, man, finish your –”  
  
“How fucking LONG, Ackles?”  
  
Jensen sighs. “Four years.”  
  
“Four –? What the fuck!!”  
  
Chris turns his eyes to Jared then and the expression on his face is just short of murderous. Jensen sighs and tries to put himself in Christian’s shoes to understand what he must be feeling – shock, obviously, and also betrayal, because he thinks he knows Jensen. Jensen doesn’t have the heart to tell Chris that he never did. Not really.   
  
Jensen puts an arm around Jared’s chair, draping it over his lover’s shoulder. He suspects he needs the contact more than Jared does. The younger man hasn’t bothered to react at all, neither physically nor verbally. He just looks up at Chris having his ridiculously unwarranted freak-out, and now that Jensen looks a little closely, Jared does look kind of … entertained, actually.   
  
“Just because you look like a couple of fags doesn’t mean you have to turn into one, for fuck’s sake!”  
  
Jensen doesn’t bother to hide the pain he feels at those hurtful words, but he still doesn’t respond. This is why he never told Christian before. The self-professed cowboy continues to rant poisonously.  
  
“And I think this qualifies as ‘your thing to tell’, Jensen, doesn’t it? Then why am I the last one to find out again?”  
  
Jensen opens his mouth, not quite sure what to say. But the words that follow come from the man sitting next to him instead.   
  
“Because you’re a dumb redneck asshole, that’s why.”  
  
There is a stretch of utterly stunned silence in which everyone’s jaws drop and they just stare at Jared. Including Jensen.   
  
Jared’s expression is one of mild amusement, and a hint of smugness that is more malicious than the old Jared could have ever been capable of.   
  
Christian Kane practically snarls at the younger man. When he speaks his voice is harsh and dripping with viciousness. “Beats being a fucking faggot who lets a bunch of psycho bitch fangirls jump him and turn him into a fucking anti–”  
  
“ENOUGH!” Jensen yells from across the table and stands up so fast, his chair topples back to the floor.   
  
“This is why I never told you, Chris. Because you’re still blinded by your prejudices and I’ve put up with ‘em for years now but I can’t anymore. You gotta leave, man. Now.”  
  
Chris looks genuinely affronted. “Jenny, don’t tell me you’re going to choose him over  _me_?!? For God’s sake, you’re not gay, I know you, I’ve known you practically all your life! It’s him. It’s  _his_  fault – this little cocksucker is fucking with your mind, son.“  
  
For a few seconds, Jensen hears nothing but a screechingly painful ringing in his ears that drowns every other sound in the universe. The kind that fills your head and stays there for hours after you’ve been boxed around in a fight until you can’t walk or see straight. The kind that made Rocky Balboa go loopy in the head, or so he imagines.   
  
“Get out,” He rasps at last. “I don’t ever wanna see your face again.”  
  
Christian’s face turns a scarlet red and he stares Jensen down for a few seconds. “You don’t mean that.”  
  
Jensen considers it a rhetoric. Still, Christian waits for a response (a retraction, an apology, whatever) that never comes, then turns to look at Jared instead. And starts to open his mouth to say something to Jared…  
  
“Shut up!!!”   
  
Jensen charges him this time, only for the quick-thinking Tom to grab him from behind, encircling his shoulders with strong arms even as Jensen vehemently struggles to break free. “Don’t you fucking dare, you sonofabitch! You so much as look at him and I’ll fucking gouge your eyes out with my bare hands, you fucking piece of–“  
  
“Jensen, stop it!!” Tom yells right in his ear. Then he turns to Kane. “Get out of here. Now! Go!”  
  
Christian doesn’t need to be told twice. He leaves in a rage that Jensen knows isn’t going to abate anytime soon. Kane and he have had hundreds, if not thousands, of arguments both verbal and physical over the years. But even as they fought, they always knew they’d make up eventually. Like two brothers who grow up together, they’ve always managed to find their way back to each other. Eventually.  
  
 _Eventually_  just might last more than a few lifetimes this time.  
  
When Jensen is let go at last, he fixes his sweatshirt riding up his torso before he turns to look at Jared. Regret turns to panic that Jared might be too upset and possibly more traumatized by the show of violence they just put up. But the man still looks… unmoved, unflapped. Fact there is still that tinge of amusement on his face that completely takes Jensen aback.   
  
“Can I have more egg bake, please?”  
  
  
  
  
  
 **[v]**

  
“That’s all he said.” Jensen lies on his back on the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.   
  
“Can I have more egg bake?” Kyra repeats.  
  
“ _Please_!”  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
“Yes! That’s FUCKING it!! Coulda asked for more French fucking toast at least but no…”  
  
And Jensen gets up and starts pacing again. Kyra has never seen him lose his cool like this before. There seems to be a whole lot more here than the actor is letting on.   
  
“So let me get this straight… you invited this friend of yours over and told him about the attack, knowing Jared wasn’t comfortable with it?”  
  
“Well, he would have seen us around in Pebble Beach and asked anyhow. We couldn’t possibly avoid him forever.”  
  
Kyra squints as she thinks. “So, you called him over and told him yourself.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
He pauses to look at her, now rubbing his sweating hands on the flanks of his denim jeans. “What?”  
  
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”  
  
Least Jensen looks guilty enough at that. He walks over to the ocean-facing window and lights another cigarette. Doctor Sedgwick sighs – she had a massive showdown with her husband when he smelled smoke on her clothes the other day. She’s so totally going to resist temptation today. No matter what.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
“I thought,” Jensen starts, and sighs, and stops. Then he starts again. “Look, I know he can be an asshole, alright? But I can usually rein him in when he starts to overstep the line. And I just thought he might be able to provoke Jay enough to… to…”  
  
“To what? Explode? Let it all out somehow?”  
  
“Well, yeah.”  
  
“But Jared didn’t crack. Didn’t even bat an eyelid, and instead  _you_  were the one who lost it. So much that you practically strangled your own best friend?”  
  
Jensen looks sheepish but not nearly enough. “Yeah well, I know Kane’s kind of old-world but I wasn’t expecting him, my  _best friend_ , to be a fucking bigot to  _me_. Was kinda hoping he’d make an exception for me, actually.”  
  
Kyra blinks. “Chris? Kane? Like from the band, Kane?”  
  
“Yeah, why?”  
  
 _Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!_  
  
Jensen narrows his eyes at her. “You’re not gonna go fangirl and flip out on me, are you?”  
  
Doctor Sedgwick draws a deep breath and gathers herself. “Not at all. I’m a professional, Mr. Ackles. Which, by the way, reminds me that you are  _not_. You shouldn’t have tried to provoke Jared, and unsupervised at that! What if you’d caused a bad reaction and made things worse?”  
  
Jensen looks miserable, and Kyra really didn’t mean to hurt him, but it’s the truth.   
  
“I didn’t know what else to do, okay? Nothing else seems to work! You have to see him, Doc, he’s not himself anymore… he’s numb and cold and shuttered…”  
  
“You know what, that’s a very good idea. Why don’t you bring him along next time you come, hmm?”  
  
Kyra stands up, signaling the end of the conversation. Jensen immediately tenses. “Wait, wh-where you going? We still got half an hour left.”  
  
Kyra sighs. God, if this man weren’t so fucking gorgeous she’d have kicked him out four days ago. She sits back down again.  
  
“Would you like me to be honest, Mr. Ackles?”  
  
“Duh.”  
  
Kyra rolls her eyes. “No, Mr. Ackles. There is no ‘duh’ about it. I need you to think about this carefully.”  
  
Jensen drags a long one on his cigarette, and finally stubs it out in the ashtray before walking back to the couch. He sits down on it and leans forward. Kyra knows her body language and she likes what she sees. Nodding in approval, she leans forward too and rests her hands on the desk.   
  
“You’re so tormented by Jared’s silence because you think he’s mad at  _you_ , Jensen. And he probably is, but let’s put that aside for now and focus on the big ticket item first, okay?”   
  
“And what is this big ticket item again?”   
  
Jensen uses the quoty fingers again. She hates it when he uses those quoty fingers. That’s why she is going to relish the crestfallen look on his face when she utters the next few words.  
  
“It is your guilt, Mr. Ackles.”  
  
Okay, so maybe she didn’t enjoy that so much after all.  
  
“You’re projecting your own guilt at Jared and I am not sure I know what you feel so guilty about.”  
  
Jensen squirms in his seat. “I told you, those bitches were my fans who…”  
  
“Who were freaking lunatic, but how is that your fault?”  
  
He laughs shortly. “Is that a medical term, lunatic?”  
  
“It is now. Tell me something, if the situation were reversed, if a bunch of – what did you call them –  _Sam-girls_  had attacked you and hurt you, would you hold Jared responsible for it?”  
  
Jensen gulps visibly. “Of course not.”  
  
Kyra lets a short silence settle in at that point. Silence is highly underrated, from what she’s observed. Personally she doesn’t mind it at all. It is desperately needed at times to process and interpret and find balance under a barrage of conflicting thoughts. Jensen seems happy to play along, stretching out on the couch again and turning his face towards the ocean view. It relaxes him, she notices.  
  
She hates to disturb his peace, but she needs to. “Why do you feel guilty, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen does not turn toward her, but he talks. “That night, we sort of… fought. Well, had an argument. Just before the wrap party.”  
  
“…”  
  
“I left for LA, knowing he didn’t want me to. Knowing he wanted me to stay, just for the night. But I couldn’t…”  
  
“Because you had to go meet your girlfriend Danneel’s parents.”  
  
Jensen frowns and turns to her. She shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, had to do my homework somehow. It was on a fansite. Livejournal something.”  
  
“Figures,” he scowls, not so benignly, and Kyra feels a compulsion to explain.  
  
“I’m not saying I believed everything that’s written about you guys. But from your reaction I’m guessing this one is close. It’s said you never made it to the meeting and that’s why you and Danneel might be, erm, breaking up? I’m sorry… is it true?”  
  
Jensen looks miffed but he doesn’t verbalize it. “We’re still together, not breaking up, no.”  
  
“And the engagement, that’s still on too?”  
  
Jensen nods curtly.  
  
Things are getting clearer. Kyra sighs deeply, her heart aching for the man stretched out before her, and for the younger man who’s been traumatized for no fault of his, by circumstances completely out of his control.   
  
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were…  _are_  best buds. The kind with, you know, fringe benefits?”  
  
Of course. Kyra had guessed that a long time ago.   
  
“And we really, really,  _really_  care for each other. But it wasn’t like… I mean, we’ve always seen other people. That was allowed. He’s had his share of flings and engagements. And he’s always known I’m with Danneel, for seven years now by the way, and we plan to get married. No strings attached, that was the deal.”  
  
Kyra reads between the lines. “So, you guys never thought of this… arrangement, as a commitment, or even a relationship.”  
  
“Well, no. We always knew it would end when the series did.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
He gulps. “I guess… the implications are… not just limited to us you know, it will affect our families, our careers…”  
  
“You don’t sound all that convinced.”  
  
He looks away then. For a Hollywood actor and a critically acclaimed one at that, his face is a precise and painfully true reflection of his turmoil within.   
  
“Why did Jared not want you to go to LA?”  
  
Jensen rubs his eyes with his hands again, tends to do that as a defense mechanism or something, like a little kid.   
  
“He knew what you were going for, didn’t he? He felt you slipping away, the  _deal_  you talked about suddenly coming to fruition earlier than he’d expected. And maybe it struck him then. Maybe, it didn’t seem enough to him anymore…”  
  
And still Jensen doesn’t react.   
  
“What about you, Jensen? Was it enough for you?  _Is_  it?”  
  
Minutes pass before Jensen finds the words to answer, and it is unlike anything she has ever heard or could ever have expected to hear.   
  
“You know, sometimes Jay can be such a kid. Like, there is this story that… that he loves to hear from me, over and over again. I must have told it to him a hundred times at least. Do you know the story of the rock and the wave, Doc?”  
  
Avoidance. Excellent.   
  
“Why don’t you tell me?”  
  
He sits up a little for a change. “It’s an old, old story, older than we are. There is this rock, standing tall, strong and unmoving on a shore somewhere, right, let’s say the island of Ibiza. And there is a beautiful, elegant, totally desirable wave in like the Mediterranean Sea, alright?”  
  
Kyra purses her lips and leans back into her chair. This is clearly going to take a while.   
  
“The wave is totally in love with the rock. She foams and swirls round the rock, she kisses him day and night. She embraces him with her white arms, and caresses him, she sighs and weeps and beseeches him to come to her.”  
  
Kyra inhales sharply, losing herself in the hypnotic cadence of Jensen’s voice and words.  
  
“The rock resists, refuses to yield because after all, that is his nature. To resist. He must stay strong and not give into temptation, but the wave is persistent and obsessed and refuses to give in. She loves him and storms about him and breaks herself apart around him and against him over and over again. And in that way, wears him down slowly and slowly, until one day he succumbs, completely undermined. He breaks away from the shore, from everything he’s ever known and believed in, and sinks into the depth of her arms.”  
  
Jensen pauses, looking away toward the ocean again. Kyra swallows, but waits.   
  
“Suddenly, things change. He is no longer a rock to be played with, to be challenged or intrigued by. He’s no longer the rock to be loved or dreamed of. Only a block of stone at the bottom of the sea, drowned in her. The wave rages and tears all night but she doesn’t understand what happened. Disappointed and deceived, she flows away, looking for another rock.”   
  
The pause this time lasts longer and it takes a while for Kyra to realize that he’s done. That’s…  _it_. That’s the story. And now Jensen clearly expects some sort of… feedback. So Kyra provides him with the most obvious one.   
  
“Guess he should have remained a rock.”  
  
Jensen smirks, like he’s just won a little battle of wits against her that she wasn’t even aware they were fighting. “The wave always says that.”  
  
Kyra sighs, wondering for the millionth time why men always end up complicating things that are not at all complicated. Against her better judgment she reaches for the box of cigarettes on her desk. What the hell, just one. Last one.  
  
“You and Jared – you’re not all that different.”  
  
Jensen scoffs. “No? He’s outgoing, I’m painfully reserved. He’s talkative, I’m socially inept. He’s optimistic and hopeful, I’m pessimistic and cynical. He has faith, I never stepped inside a church since I left my parents’ house back in ‘97… I could go on, you know.”  
  
Her turn.   
  
“You’re both in love with each other. You’re both too goddamn scared to admit it. You both rationalized your attraction to each other five years ago as something that was circumstantial and inevitable given your living and working situation. Now you’re both afraid to challenge the status quo, resisting the idea that it might have grown into something more. A whole lot more.”  
  
Jensen looks away from her then, incapable of meeting her eyes anymore.   
  
“You both think if you said it out loud, made it official somehow… it’d ruin this illusion of a  _life_  that may or may not exist after Supernatural. You’re both unsure of the consequences of taking such a drastic step and your own abilities to deal with them.”  
  
Jensen gulps hard but neither agrees nor contests, clearly not ready to go there yet and Kyra decides not to push it. There’s a ton of other things they could talk about.  
  
“Do you think Jared drank too much and lost control of himself because of the argument?”  
  
“He didn’t have more than a couple beers in him,” Jensen responds, not an iota of uncertainty in his voice this time. “The girls, they… they got up to leave and called him out of the bar, away from the rest of the crew under the pretext of needing help getting their car out of the snow. He’d been chatting and hanging out with them all week. He thought he knew them.”  
  
Jensen scoffs sadly, shaking his head. “Jay trusts way too easily, that’s his only weakness. After candy, of course.”  
  
“What happened then?”  
  
Suddenly Jensen winces, gulps and drags at his cigarette again. “Some other time. I don’t wanna talk about it. What did you think of my little story?”  
  
Kyra stands up then and comes over to the couch, sitting down next to him at a professionally appropriate distance. He doesn’t even look at her.  
  
“Maybe it’s time you started using actual words instead of monosyllables and rock-and-wave metaphors to communicate with him, Jensen.”  
  
He flinches, and once again Kyra wonders if Jared Padalecki might actually be the saner one in this couple.   
  
“Jensen…”  
  
When he still doesn’t react, she puts a cautious hand on his shoulder. “How can you expect to help Jared talk about it if  _you_  can’t?”  
  
Jensen looks at her then, his expression open and honest and so freaking vulnerable, it breaks her heart. She gives him a few moments to gather the courage he needs, to swallow the lump of whatever is stuck in his throat, straighten his spine and finally begin.   
  
“I was at the airport, standing in the check-in line, wondering if I was doing the right thing or not, when I got the call. It was Cliff, our then – now ex – bodyguard. He sounded rushed, no, panicked, asking me if I knew where Jared could be…”  
  
  
  
  
  
 **[vi]**

  
Jensen takes an especially long route back to the hotel, in a golden Merc convertible this time. He has a lot to think about, obviously… a lot of things to process and come to terms with.   
  
Like the fact that even if he’d been around at the wrap party, there’s a very high likelihood the psycho bitches would have found some excuse or another to get Jared separated from him and everyone else. And the fact that if he really, really wants his old Jay back, then Jensen talking to a shrink can only help up to a certain point. Of course, Jared talking to a shrink might, but the younger man has made it pretty damn clear he’s going to do no such thing. Nothing to talk about, far as he is concerned. Stubborn little punk.   
  
Which left only one recourse – that Jensen talk to Jared and draw it out… all of it, all the pain and the rage he’s been holding in – it’s like poison in his veins, slowly but surely sucking all his energy and personality out, stealing that bright sparkle of life from Jared’s eyes that Jensen misses so fucking much.   
  
Jensen sighs and starts climbing up the stairs to go to his suite where he knows his lover (for now) is. Hopefully still napping. Jensen hates the idea of Jared waking up alone to an empty suite and wishes he didn’t have to go see the shrink thrice a week but all things considered, Doctor Sedgwick’s been a lifesaver.   
  
He’s been needing to talk to someone or he would have self-combusted by now. Ironically, until two weeks ago, that used to be Jared’s personality type, not Jensen’s.   
  
The first thing that he notices out of the ordinary is the missing bodyguards at the door to their suite. Jensen frowns and walks in, practically running to the bedroom where his worst fears seem on the verge of being realized.   
  
Jared is not there.   
  
“Jay?”  
  
He goes from one room to the next and then to the terrace and back, but no Jared. He flies out the door and down the steps to the reception with a mind to start yelling at the first living being he sees and that happens to be one of the new bodyguards, Joseph, chatting up the cute red-headed receptionist.   
  
That does it.   
  
“Good evening, Mr. Ackles! How can I…”  
  
Jensen ignores her completely as he walks up to and gets right in Joseph’s face. “Where’s Jared?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ackles, but…”  
  
Jensen loses it then. “No, don’t be sorry, man, ‘cause that’s no use to me. Just tell me where he is.”  
  
Joseph hesitates again, taking a slight step back.   
  
“Tell me you didn’t just ditch him, Joseph. Tell me you didn’t let him walk out of here alone and unescorted because I swear to God if you did…”  
  
He is about to reach out to grab the man’s collar when the receptionist suddenly blurts out a panicked interruption, “He booked an appointment at the spa!”  
  
Jensen frowns, his hands stopping mid-air. “What?”  
  
“Don’t worry, he has absolute privacy in there for the next two hours. And Trager is posted at the door, so he is perfectly safe.”  
  
Despite her words, the girl looks nervous, and so does Joseph which doesn’t quite add up. Trager is their other bodyguard, also a new guy and Jensen doesn’t quite trust him as much yet. Joseph knows that too.   
  
“Well, why didn’t you say so before?”  
  
And that is when Joseph seems to find his spine. “I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Padalecki asked to not be disturbed while he is in there, so…”  
  
What the fuck is going on?   
  
“Where is this damn spa?”  
  
They both guiltily look toward their left, to a giant domed hallway that Jensen knows goes toward the luxurious, open courtyard spa here at the Spanish Inn. The open side directly faces the ocean, the sound of the waves a calming natural element used wonderfully to create the perfect experience and Jensen’s been dying to try it out ever since they got here.   
  
He frowns and takes a step back from Joseph, who still looks kind of shifty-eyed.   
  
“Okay, so… if he is in there, what are you doing here, man?”  
  
“B-because he asked for some privacy, sir.”  
  
“And to not be disturbed,” the red-headed adds again which just makes Jensen more than a tad pissed.   
  
Least they aren’t foolish enough to try to stop him. The hallway is long and high-ceilinged and snakes sharply towards the left.  _Toward the Pacific_. Jensen makes it through to the other end in a few, long, deliberate strides to find another rustically designed door and Trager standing guard. Silently he nods at the man (who doesn’t try to stop him at all) and steps in through the door, into a majestic courtyard of the spa.   
  
Expectedly, the place is deserted this time of the day, when the shadows are just starting to get longer. It is the off-season for golf anyway, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Joseph had the whole place booked exclusively for Jared, all thanks to the guilty conscience of a TV network. Less the crowd, less the chances of them getting stalked by fans they’d rather have absolutely nothing to do with right about now.  
  
Jensen walks in a little further until he reaches the end of the courtyard, the ocean view threatening to distract him already. And that’s where he sees them.   
  
There is a man lying face down on a massage table, completely naked from head to toe. Not even the standard white towel to cover his private area. Instead a white towel lies discarded on another smaller table nearby. The man has his face turned away, toward the ocean. His long, lean and beautifully toned body is prone, relaxed, and completely devoid of any self-consciousness. His clean white skin, peppered softly with tiny black moles, glistens in the paling sunlight, having recently been generously pampered with a combination of scented oils dribbled and polished and rubbed into every visible, touchable inch. The sheen only accentuates the ripples of his back muscles, the sinewy muscles in his arms, and especially the perfectly shaped, beautifully presented curvature of his butt.   
  
Jensen finds himself unable to move, unable to speak… frozen in time and space, utterly captivated by the gorgeousness laid out before his eyes.   
  
 _His boy._  
  
There are only two things that mar that perfect picture, the picture of his insanely beautiful boyfriend’s naked body. One – the palms, still swathed in white splint bandages and hanging uselessly off the sides of the massage table. And two – a giant, blond-haired, blue-eyed Nordic God wearing the uniform of a masseur hovering over the lower half of the table.   
  
Jensen takes a deep breath and thinks maybe he should have waited upstairs like Jared had wanted him to. Meanwhile the masseur walks over to the side of the table, smiling down at Jared as they exchange a few words that Jensen can’t hear from this distance. And then, while Jensen is still wondering what to do next, the Viking slides toward the other end of the table, physically pulls and spreads Jared’s thighs apart, and places both his palms flat on the crest of Jared’s butt.   
  
“What the–?”  
  
Jensen reflexively starts to move and the closer he gets, the clearer the sordid little details get. Right before his eyes, the Viking expertly dips two slicked up thumbs into the orifice of Jared’s butt, and starts to massage the canal enthusiastically. Right before his eyes, Jared twitches his toes and lifts his butt up into a perfect arch, appreciating the professional servicing of his body inside and out.   
  
So it’s  _that_  kind of massage Jared booked.   
  
“No. No. No…”  
  
Jensen feels a hot surge of… something, burning up the pit of his stomach through his throat and to the ends of his ears. Only Jesus knows how he keeps his hands in his jeans pockets, clenched as they are into white-knuckled fists.   
  
But why not? That’s the deal isn’t it? No strings attached, anyone can do anyone? And keeping up the public image all the time? Jensen and Danneel, Jared and… whoever’s the flavor of the month?  
  
Course, Jensen’s never seen Jared opt for the dumb silver-blond beefcake flavor before.   
  
Something’s changed. He sees it then.  _Jensen_  has changed.  
  
He reaches the two at last, making enough noise with his sneakers to let them know that he’s approaching. He can sense and not just see Jared’s body tensing up, no longer pushing into the fingers fucking his ass, and for that Jensen is glad.   
  
“Enjoying yourself, Jay?” He throws out, as casually as his years of acting experience enable him to.   
  
Jared turns his face towards Jensen, after a second long pause, which is typically all he needs to slip his own acting mask into place. “I asked to not be disturbed.”  
  
“I’m not disturbing, am I? Just thought I’d come say hi!”  
  
Jensen grins, stupidly, he thinks. He even manages to nod a greeting at the giant Viking, whose perfectly manicured thumbs just stopped moving in and out of Jared’s little ass. The masseur steps back from the table demurely and picks up the towel to wipe his hands. Good for him, or Jensen would have had to sock his hospitable face in.  
  
“Alright. Hi,” Jared says tersely. “Anything else?”  
  
Jensen blinks. “N-not really.”  
  
“Good!” And then Jared turns back towards the Viking. “Dietrich?”  
  
Dietrich? Jeez, could this guy get any more cliché?  
  
The masseur doesn’t look fazed in the least, and walks back towards the naked body stretched out between them. Jensen doesn’t know if he can watch this again, and he is about to start walking away, heart firmly lodged in the middle of his throat, when he catches Jared’s eye. And there is a glint of something in there that’s… Jensen can’t think of the words to describe it. But whatever it is, it’s the first expression of…  _something_ , anything really, that Jensen has seen on Jared’s face ever since he woke up in Vancouver City Hospital.   
  
Jensen stays.   
  
“Sorry Jay, I – I thought you’d sleep for a while longer so I…”  
  
“- went for a walk. Sure. Whatever.”  
  
Dietrich slicks up his hands again and dives right back in, eliciting a soft gasp from Jared and a softer one from Jensen that thankfully no one but himself notices. Jensen watches, spellbound, even as a large part of him longs to turn away in a hurry. He watches as Jared spreads his legs wider apart, letting the Viking finger fuck him like it was all in a masseur’s day’s work.   
  
Jensen clears his throat. “Are you mad?”  
  
Jared scoffs and looks away. “Why would I be mad?”  
  
“Be-cause you woke up and I wasn’t there?”  
  
“None of my business what you do on your own time, man. That’s the deal, right?”  
  
Everything he and the therapist talked about today comes back into sharp focus. It makes Jensen want to reach out and take Jared into his arms, away from everyone’s prying eyes. And hands.   
  
“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”  
  
Jensen starts. Jared turns to him again. “It’s alright if you went out to play golf, or met up with someone or whatever. Just don’t lie to me.”  
  
Jensen sighs. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Jared’s eyes dim just a tiny bit, clearly taking the apology as a confirmation of his worst… fears, possibly.   
  
“I should have told you. I’ve been seeing Doctor Sedgwick.”  
  
Jared frowns, and gasps too but Jensen suspects the Viking’s fingers have something to do with that one. “You’re dating a shrink?”  
  
“What?” Jensen laughs and this time does manage to step closer to the table. It takes all his might to ignore the third man who now has one middle finger inside Jared while the other hand is rubbing oily circles into the crest of Jared’s ass cheeks.  
  
“No, I’m not  _seeing_  seeing her, you moron! I’m… I’ve been… I just go to talk to her. Taking those sessions you signed out of.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Are you going to make him jack you off too?”  
  
“I’m thinking about it.”   
  
Jensen huffs, and decides to put an end to this nonsense. “Dietrich? Would you give us a minute?”  
  
Dietrich, the perfect gentleman, smiles and easily removes himself… from Jared’s ass as well as the side of the table. He is about to walk off when Jared calls out again.   
  
“Don’t go too far, Dietrich. Mr. Ackles will be leaving shortly.”  
  
Damn it, stubborn bastard. Jensen grinds his teeth but other than that, doesn’t react. And now that Dietrich is some twenty yards away at the other end of the courtyard, he closes the distance until he is leaning against the massage table. Putting a hesitant hand in the middle of Jared’s slicked up back, he strokes the warmed skin there lovingly. Jared stiffens against the touch, clearly still waiting for a response.  
  
“Jay, I… we haven’t talked like we used to in so long. You’ve noticed that, haven’t you?”  
  
Jared just rests his head on the table, turning away to watch the ocean. Jensen doesn’t like that. He walks to the other side of the table so he can be in Jared’s line of sight again, and also see his face himself.   
  
“You’re an expressive guy, you’re not meant to keep things bottled up.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jensen.”  
  
Jensen winces, his voice taking on a quality of urgency when he speaks next. “We have to talk it out, man. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure how to start myself, when have I ever, right? I mean, you’re usually the one who leads in that department, right? You’re the one with all the words…”  
  
 _But since you aren’t doing it anymore_ …  
  
“So I decided to try Doctor Sedgwick. See if she could advise me on how to help you.”  
  
Jared smiles a little sardonically. “I don’t think that’s how therapy works, man.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s what she keeps telling me.”  
  
Jensen bends to plant a kiss at the back of Jared’s neck first, and then on the side of his mouth turned up towards him. He softly blows into an ear, which makes Jared quiver and Jensen smile. Yep, he’s still got it.  
  
He straightens up, but can’t keep himself from touching the naked body, one hand buried in the longish mop of brown hair and the other scribbling nonsense with a couple of finger pads into a bony shoulder.   
  
“You wouldn’t consider coming with me to– “  
  
“No.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  
  
“Besides, I don’t believe you.”  
  
Jensen frowns. “Don’t believe what?”  
  
“Come off it, man.” Jared props himself up on his elbows, careful to not put pressure on his hands. “We’re supposed to be on vacation in Pebble Beach – you wanted to do this ever since I’ve known you. And after five years, here you are, stuck with me on fucking hospice duty. I completely understand that you need to get away once in a while.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t like where this is going. “But I like taking care of you…”  
  
“I don’t want your charity, or your pity, okay?” Exhausted, Jared lies back down on the table. “Please go Jensen, have fun. Play golf, fuck someone or whatever.”  
  
“Look, Jay…”  
  
“I want you to! Make me feel less guilty, alright, so just go...”  
  
And that’s when it really hits him – the subtle yet marked difference in Jared today. It’s his nostrils. Flaring with the effort of getting more words out at one time than he has all week, fuming with the effort of trying to keep everything else bottled inside.   
  
Yep. Jared is definitely pissed. Jensen bites back a tiny victorious smile.   
  
“Fine.”  
  
Jared sighs and turns his face away, waits for the older man to walk off. Jensen looks around and finds a clean roll of towel on the next table. He is smiling smugly as he pushes up his cotton button-up sleeves, goes to grab the towel and the open bottle of massage oil nearby, then comes back to stand where the Viking had stood not too long ago.   
  
Jared starts when he feels two warm hands clasping his hips and lifting him up, then sliding the towel roll under his lower stomach.   
  
“Wha-what are you doing?”  
  
“Having my fun. Enjoying my vacation.”  
  
Jared gasps as he is positioned so that his butt is perfectly propped up in blatant pornographic display. Before he can protest, Jensen wraps his left arm around the narrow waist. Holding the body close to himself, he slicks up two fingers with the massage oil and plunges them into the younger man’s orifice.   
  
“Uh! Jensen, stop – ah!”  
  
Despite the words, Jared’s back arches up, spreading his legs wider and pushing up into the intrusion shamelessly.   
  
“I know baby, just let me do this for ya, okay?”   
  
Jared doesn’t protest after that, not that verbal cues would matter, seeing how his body is already screaming affirmative loud and clear. Jensen bends down to lick the cleft of his ass now and again, and lets his left hand rub circles into Jared’s hips. Vaguely he wonders if the Viking poured the whole bottle of oil into his client, it is so slippery every pass of his fingers in and out of Jared elicits soft, wet slapping noises inside. After a while, he withdraws the digits and inserts a thumb instead, massaging the passage leisurely while with the tips of his long fingers, he strokes the back of the hairless balls, drawing concentric circles in the velvet-softness underneath. And that’s when Jared really moans.   
  
“That’s it, Jay. Tell me you like this…”  
  
“Touch me,” Jared manages to rasp lustily, lifting his hips off the table urging Jensen’s hand to move down to his shaft. “Jensen, please…”  
  
Jensen knows that’s what has to come next for Jared, of course he does. How long have they been doing this again?   
  
“No, not today…”  
  
“What?” Jared frowns and looks back at Jensen with a thoroughly annoyed expression that Jensen absolutely adores. “Why not?”  
  
Jensen shrugs. “’Cause I wanna have  _fun_. That’s why.”  
  
Jared groans and thumps his head down on the table loudly, which makes Jensen laugh. Slipping three fingers back in, he makes sure to brush up against the sweet spot only every now and then. Jared undulates his hips, trying to force a faster pace but Jensen tsks him every time and comes to a dead stop until Jared groans and wordlessly begs him to start again.   
  
“I hate you, fucking asshole, I so hate you,” Jared whispers over and over, even as he deliberately rubs his erection against the towel under him and his face against the table. Jensen smirks and tickles his balls and the underside of his cock, teasing him but stopping just before getting to the good part.   
  
“Jense… ah! Please… damn it! Is this the therapy your shrink suggested? Frustrate me to fucking death?”  
  
Jensen chuckles, “Well, not to death…”  
  
He lets several minutes pass them by, loving the silken feel of Jared’s ass contracting around his fingers, reaching as far and deep as he can and wishing he could do this forever. His own erection aches in the confines of his jeans and he rocks himself against the edge of the table. Damn it, if he’s teasing Jared, he’s damn near torturing himself too.  
  
He watches as Jared’s toes curl up and his fingers twitch uselessly, worries he might try to ball his hands up into fists despite the splint holding them flat open, which wouldn’t be so good.   
  
“Careful with the hands, Jay…”  
  
“Aargh!  _You_  be careful, you fucking… short… fucker…”  
  
Jensen chuckles again and this time withdraws completely. Jared tenses up and turns toward him. “No no no, I was kidding… keep going!”  
  
“Shhh, relax, I ain’t going nowhere.”  
  
Jensen removes the towel from under Jared, then slides up the table and puts his hands on Jared’s sides. He shoves gently until Jared gets the message and allows himself to be rolled over to his back. Jensen tries not to look at the remnants of the bruises on Jared’s ribs, picks up the bandaged hands and moves them down to his sides where they’d be safe. Where Jensen can catch them in time if needed.  
  
When he bends and lowers his mouth over Jared’s, the younger man turns away, just a little.  _Of course_. Jensen smirks again and licks his lips.   
  
“Kiss me and I’ll let you come.”  
  
Jared’s face is an alluring combination of blushing pinks and angry (read: furious) reds, and the way he narrows his slanted eyes almost exactly like when he morphs into evil Sam – Jensen swears those eyes will be the death of him some day.  
  
Jensen tries again and when Jared moves his lips away again, the older man gives him an exasperated look, one that makes Jared smirk, feeling victorious in his endeavor to bug the hell out of Jensen. But it doesn’t last. Jensen casually flicks the weeping tip of Jared’s erection with a warm slick thumb. Jared gasps making it easier for Jensen to capture his mouth with his and this time Jared whimpers but gives in.   
  
It’s heavenly, plain and simple. When they kiss, Jensen feels like he belongs, anchored to something meaningful and worthy and  _his_. For the first time in a long while, he feels  _not_  adrift in a sea of his own regrets and failings. For the first time today, he stops ruing the things he should and shouldn’t have done, and instead focuses on this moment. This singularly perfect, heavenly, moment.   
  
“Come for me, Jay.”  
  
Jensen takes Jared’s shaft in his hands and starts to pump and coax a release out of him. This time it’s fast and rough and the real thing, just like Jared likes it and it doesn’t take long. He grunts near painfully when he comes, eyes nearly rolling up into his head for a couple of seconds as Jensen continues to work it all out of him, stroking and loving the shaft with a reverence he will never ever admit to Jared, not through words.   
  
Jensen remembers this one time Jared described what his ‘happy place’ feels like – like his entire body is crackling with like a thousand watts of electricity, lit up like the evening sky on the fourth of July. Jensen suspects it’s probably an exaggeration, but he sure loves to be the one responsible for making Jared react like that.   
  
“Jay? Back with me yet?”  
  
A soft smile curls up the corners of Jared’s mouth, but he keeps his eyes closed.   
  
“Good, we need to talk.”  
  
Jared groans, “Seriously, Jensen, that line is getting really old. And irritating.”  
  
“Fine, then let me do the talking, you just listen.” Jensen flips open the towel and drapes it over Jared’s middle, covering his private parts up, to keep  _himself_  from getting distracted. Then he stands leaning by the table and crosses his arms.  
  
“Here are the rules, kiddo. We’re going to stop holing up in our royal fucking suite and we’re going to stop ignoring our friends who care about us.”  
  
Jared scoffs, “Sure, ‘cause that went down so fucking well the last time.”  
  
Jensen ignores the interruption. “And we’re going to start doing what we came here to do.  _Vacationing_.”  
  
At that, Jared holds his hands up in the air. “What do you think I was doing with Dietrich?”  
  
Oh yeah. Dietrich. Jensen grinds his teeth but manages a plastic smile on the outside.   
  
“Yeah about that, the deal’s off.”  
  
Jared freezes. “What?”  
  
“You heard me. We don’t get to fuck anyone else. Not anymore.”  
  
The return of the blankness on Jared’s face isn’t lost on Jensen, like, at all.   
  
“Is there something you’d like to say, Jay?”  
  
“…”  
  
“Like, maybe, how I can’t be making these decisions unilaterally? How I don’t have the right?”  
  
Jared stays silent, and Jensen feels his heart sinking with the fear that they just took two steps back instead of forward. He exhales loudly and puts his hands back in his pockets.   
  
“Well. I’ll take your silence to mean that you accept. I’ll see you upstairs. Try not to enjoy yourself too much, okay?”  
  
Jared doesn’t stop him when he turns around and starts walking away. Dietrich is still standing guard right outside the doors along with Trager. With a quick nod of his head, Jensen gives the masseur the go-ahead to finish up. But something makes him linger, just as the Viking walks back in and it’s like they just swapped places – an unhappy Jensen on the outside this time. Petrified at the thought of what might be happening behind his back, he doesn’t turn. Just stands there, waiting. For what, he isn’t quite sure.  
  
A cool ocean breeze floats his way, carrying the murmurs of a deep male voice from the other end of the spa. And just as Jensen figures the voice he heard definitely isn’t Jared’s, another voice, a slightly higher-pitched one, echoes through the courtyard.  
  
“Fuck off!”  
  
Jensen grins. Curbing his first instinct to jump up and go yee-haw, he just nods at Trager who is busy biting back a knowing smile himself. Then he walks back up to their rooms to wait for Jared.   
  
  
 ********

 

**(tbc)**


	3. Chapter 3

  
**[vii]**   
  


  
Kyra lies on her back on her bed, struggling to get into a mini-skirt she hasn’t worn in two years. Damn thing couldn’t have shrunk so soon could it? Leather goods, seriously, never can tell which one’s real and which is not.   
  
The cell phone lying beside her rings just as she finally manages to get the zipper at the back of the waist closed. She reaches for it and flips it open but doesn’t recognize the number.  
  
“This is Doctor Sedgwick?”  
  
“Doc, it’s Jensen.”  
  
The hottie. Kyra tries to remember she has a perfectly wonderful husband who by the way is waiting for her at the PortaBella. She also tries to sit up but the damn skirt won’t let her. “Hey, what’s up?”  
  
“You sound out of breath. Were you having sex or somethin’?”  
  
Kyra rolls her eyes. “I’m trying to.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Kyra bites her lip and curses herself. This is why she is a sucky therapist – just can’t seem to remember not to get all chummy with the patients.   
  
“Nothing, just… uh. What happened? Everything okay with Jared?”  
  
The silken voice on the other end laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound simply because it’s so completely – genuinely – happy.   
  
“Everything’s fine. Everything’s great in fact! Guess what – our plan’s working.”  
  
Kyra tries to remember. “Our plan? What plan?”  
  
“The plan to get Jared talking! It’s freaking simple Doc… all I have to do is get him mad! Keep riling him up until he turns red in the face and cracks!”  
  
 _Shit!_  
  
“Jensen that is the exact opposite of what I – hu-hello?”  
  
There is a loud noise of something crashing on the other side, followed by some more fumbling and cursing.   
  
“Jensen? Jensen? JENSEN!!”  
  
“Yeah! Sorry, I dropped my binoculars.”  
  
“Binoculars?”  
  
“Um yeah, just keeping my eye on my boy. From a safe distance.”  
  
Sweet Jesus. “And where is your boy?”  
  
“Downstairs, in the courtyard jacuzzi.”   
  
He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like where else would a guy named Jared Padalecki be at this time of the day? Kyra really should be used to this by now. She isn’t sure though whether to be flattered by the high expectations Jensen has of her, or insulted by how he can never remember what they have or haven’t yet talked about.   
  
“Jensen,” she sighs. “please tell me there is a good explanation for you spying on your Jared?”  
  
“Long story. Besides, this ain’t spyin! I’m just… you know, making sure he’s okay.”  
  
“But –“  
  
“Doc, listen, I just wanted to say thanks for the talk today. Turns out I did end up getting Jay mad even when I wasn’t actively planning to! I think he’s jealous of you.”  
  
Kyra finally manages to get herself off the bed, already starting to get a headache which is so not good for the hot date she’s planned for tonight.   
  
“Jensen, look, I appreciate everything you are doing to draw him out of his shell. But I really would like to see Jared first before I’d recommend you go any further with this half-baked amateur version of cognitive behavioral therapy. I mean come on, that’s my job!”  
  
“You’re not listening to me, Doc. PTSD my ass, this is classic  _Paddywhack_  syndrome. Something pisses him off, he doesn’t admit it right away. He just keeps bottling it up, hoping to deal with it quietly and privately but in reality he  _never_  deals with it. All he does is hope and wait for it to go away on its own. But it never does and instead it just rots and festers and grows until it bursts out of him like last night’s friggin’ burrito!”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Never mind. He’s on his way up now, I gotta split.”  
  
“Wo-wo-wait wait Jensen...“  
  
“Thanks Doc. You’re a genius!”   
  
And the line goes dead. Kyra Sedgwick stares at the handset for a second, wondering exactly what role she played in this dubious turn of events and how she could extricate herself legally if she had to. She wonders if she’s doing right by these men letting them handle this situation on their own.   
  
Especially since Jensen isn’t the stablest of men himself.   
  
  
  
  
  
 **[viii]**  
  


  
Jensen hovers close by as their specialized hand therapist sits with Jared at the kitchen table and examines his hands.   
  
“How much longer, Kathy?”  
  
Kathy looks up at Jensen and back at Jared who sits with his head lowered and his sight trained at who knows what, like it isn’t his hands being discussed but someone else’s. His long body is slumped back against the chair and his legs stay bent at the knees. Stiller than Jensen’s ever seen them before.   
  
“Well, looks like the left hand cast can come off in about three more weeks. But the right one will take a little more time. After which you would have to come in to get the metal pin taken out.”  
  
Jensen flinches, and is only thankful he’s standing behind Jared. The younger man doesn’t react, again. Kathy notices nothing and continues to talk to Jared hoping a part of him is still listening.   
  
“The left one is healing nicely on its own. We just need to start with minor finger motion therapy to help with the stiffness. There is going to be a slight bump that you’ll notice right about here…”  
  
Clearly Jensen is the only one paying attention, so Kathy sighs and looks up to address him instead.   
  
“It is basically an extra bone your hand will develop as part of the healing process. And it might never go away but don’t worry about it, okay? With regular physical therapy you’re sure to regain normal activity in your hand very soon.”  
  
“That’s good news. Huh?” Jensen puts a hand on Jared’s shoulder and waits for a response. Why does he even bother, really?   
  
“With the right hand though…”   
  
Jensen holds his breath.   
  
“We’ll have to take the pin out and re-bandage it and let it heal for a few more weeks after that. So we’ll start with that one a little later and there’s a good chance the physical therapy will take care of the rest after that.”  
  
“What do you mean  _good chance_?”  
  
Kathy licks her lips. “Well, there might be some lingering stiffness in the fingers even afterwards. This case is, unfortunately, not one where we could guarantee a hundred percent recovery. But you never know, sometimes miracles do happen. ”  
  
 _Yeah, right._  Jensen wants to scoff and smash something to the ground but even if he’s the resident skeptic, he doesn’t want Jared to lose faith. Jared’s always been religious, even though right now, this Jared that sits before him doesn’t seem much inclined to assert it.   
  
Jensen feels his fingers claw the flesh on Jared’s shoulder hard for a few seconds before he forces himself to relax. He sighs and opens his mouth to say something, something nice and peppy…  
  
“It’s alright. We’ll deal with it when we get there.”  
  
Jensen and Kathy both look toward Jared in surprise. Jared says those words so nonchalantly it’s creepy, and the odder thing is – he sounds like he means them.   
  
Kathy smiles when she is finally allowed a brief moment of eye contact with her patient. “That’s a healthy attitude, Jared. We will need it when we start the therapy sessions once you’re back in LA. In the meantime, try not to get the splints wet again, will you?”  
  
Jared smiles at that. Jensen exhales in relief, jotting a small reminder in his head to not let the guy in the Jacuzzi without the bubble wraps again.   
  
Half an hour later, Jensen helps Kathy with her bags as she gets into the cab that will take her to the airport.   
  
“Thanks for flying down, Doctor Walters.”  
  
She beams up at him. “Hey. All expenses paid trip to Pebble Beach, who’s complaining?”  
  
Jensen waves her goodbye and looks at his watch. It is eleven in the morning, and it’s a bright sunny day outside. Time to put his plan into action. But when he reaches their bedroom, he finds Jared kicking off his flip-flops and getting ready to go back to sleep.   
  
“Yo, what’re you doing?”  
  
“Going to bed.”  
  
“Alone, or am I invited?”  
  
Jared scowls at him, even though there’s no real heat in it. “I’m still mad at you, so no, you’re not getting any.”  
  
Jensen pouts, pushing his lower lip out as adorably as he thinks he can, and waits for the usual Jared snickering to start, or at least a friendly jibe about ‘look who’s being the drama queen now?’ or whatever. But nothing comes. Instead Jared just shakes his head – at least he’s smiling, thank God – and lies down on the bed like an old man who’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years.   
  
He didn’t even have a nightmare last night.   
  
Jensen sighs and goes over to the man’s side, puts a hand behind his neck and tugs at his hair not so gently.  
  
“Jay, you can’t sleep in the middle of the day. Come on, baby, up and at ‘em.”  
  
Jared winces. “What for?”  
  
Jensen scratches his head. “Let’s go down to the Links, maybe watch Rosie and Tom tee off, make fun of them amateurs. What say?”  
  
“You should go, I’m tired.”  
  
“What did you do all morning that you’re tired?” Jensen exclaims. “Stop being a little bitch and get up.”  
  
“Oh so now I’m being a bitch?”  
  
“Hell yeah!”  
  
Jared sits up in bed and this time scowls at Jensen for real. “Well excuse me for being a fucking cripple who can’t even close his hands around a straw, let alone a golf club!”  
  
Jensen bites his tongue, the sudden urge to grab Jared’s face and press desperate kisses into his blushing red lips so strong he’s nearly suffocated by it. Jared’s good at emotionally blackmailing him – always has been. But Jensen won’t let the brat have his way this time.   
  
After a couple seconds of silence, Jensen sighs. “It must just burn you up inside that those psycho fangirls from hell stole this from you, right, Jay?”   
  
Jared’s face hardens.   
  
“And you were doing so well, improving your game little by little. This was your one chance to show the guys what you could do. Doesn’t that just make you hopping mad, Jay? I’m sure it does, right?”  
  
“…”  
  
“Why don’t you tell me what it feels like, huh? Tell me, I wanna know…”  
  
Jared huffs, and gets out of the bed from the other side in a flash.   
  
“I will need my gloves. Asshole.”  
  
Jensen chuckles as he watches the younger man stalk into the bathroom, and once there kick the door shut behind him.   
  
At the Golf Links, Tom is extremely happy to see Jared. He doesn’t comment on the white leather golf gloves the kid is wearing and just hugs him close, tight, for a long while before letting him go. Jared keeps his eyes averted for the most part, but when Tom lets him go, he nods briefly at him, before going to stand by their rented Yamaha golf car under the shade. Because it’s Tom, Jensen knows he doesn’t need to apologize for Jared’s coldness. Because it’s Tom, the curt little nod is more than enough to make him smile.   
  
Tom turns to Jensen once he steps up next to the Smallville star. “How’s he doing?”  
  
Jensen shrugs and crosses his arms as they both watch Jared walk away from them. “I don’t know. Honestly, some days I swear he’s as normal as normal can be. And then there are times he just… goes off someplace in his mind and I can’t seem to reach him until he is ready to come back on his own.”  
  
They notice Michael, his new girl, Angela something, and Jamie walking over to greet Jared.   
  
“How did you get him to leave the suite?”  
  
Jensen grimaces as he turns to look at Tom through both their black sunglasses. “Same way I get him to do anything these days. Threatening him with  _the talk_.”   
  
Tom shakes his head, watching as his wife hugs Jared carefully and offers him a drink of lemonade. “That’s not good, man.”  
  
“Tell me about it.”  
  
“He still doesn’t wanna see the therapist?”  
  
“Nope.” Jensen sighs, then turns to face Tom again. “Well, you guys have a good game. I guess Jared might want to leave soon, he tends to get tired pretty quickly these days.”  
  
“Why’s that? The blood loss?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s one reason. It’s also the meds I guess.” And Jensen can’t help a sad little snort at that.   
  
Tom turns to him. “What?”  
  
Jensen takes his glasses off for a second to rub the aching bridge of his nose. “A year ago, I was seriously considering sneaking in some Ritalin into Jared’s candy. Anything to get the kid to calm the hell down. And now…” he laughs that distressed laugh again. “All I know is I never ever wanna see him doped up like this again.”  
  
Tom keeps his hands on his hips and looks down at their shadows on the greens. “It was not your fault, Ackles. I know it’s probably hard to believe it now but it is the truth, and I hope deep down you do know that.”  
  
A few yards away, Michael and Angela break into a sudden spate of laugher and even Jared is smiling softly. Jensen figures the joke must have come from him. Everyone seems to be treading on broken glass around him. That’s just got to change and it can only happen when Jared starts mingling with them like he used to. But Jensen doesn’t want to tax him too much yet.  
  
"So anyway, we’re probably gonna slip out after lunch or something.”  
  
Tom frowns. “You’re not playing at all?”  
  
Jensen shakes his head, and hopes Tom would understand. Michael walks over with his girl to them and after a few more minutes of idle talk, Jensen makes it back to Jared’s side.   
  
“Where’d James go?”  
  
Jared, whose eyes are also shielded by brown Aviator glasses, subtly nods towards the clubhouse behind him. “She got a phone call.”  
  
Okay. Jensen folds himself into the driving seat of the golf car and pretends he’s driving the thing on the surface of the moon, or in Cairo maybe. Makes all the appropriate engine revving and jerking sounds from his mouth as he does so. Anything to get Jared to smile for him, doesn’t matter if this general all-round buffoonery is, or at least used to be, more Jared’s forte than it is his. When Jared finally does crack a smile, it’s the victory Jensen was hoping for. And now Jensen is greedy and wants more of it.  
  
“Let’s rent a car and go for a drive, all around Pebble Beach. What say?”  
  
Jared looks at him with a little frown on his face then turns away. “I thought you wanted to golf.”  
  
“No, I…” And that’s when it hits him – Jared is clearly miffed – missing the game he’s grown to love so much under Jensen’s tutelage. Glaring through his shades at his friends enviously for enjoying this beautiful day on the greens while he stands on the side like an idiot.   
  
Jensen comes around to stand by Jared’s side. “Wouldn’t you mind?”  
  
He can almost see the movement of Jared gnashing his teeth inside his mouth. “I don’t care. I told you, do what you want.”  
  
Jensen bites back a smirk and picks out a random golf club from Tom’s bag in the back of the car. He looks up into Jared’s face and smiles. “Alright then, seeing how I have your permission, I might as well get me a score on the board.”  
  
And he starts to stalk off. “You sure you are okay with this?”  
  
Jared doesn’t respond.   
  
“I mean, of course you’re okay. But I wouldn’t wanna leave you standing here all by yourself, you know. So if you don’t want me to go, now’s the time to say it…”  
  
Jensen is now further away from the car and that much closer to the rest of the group. “Don’t be all bitchy and whiny later on. Going once, going twice…”  
  
Jensen gives up then, swallowing down his own urge to scream his lungs out. He turns around and away from Jared, wondering again if he’s doing the right thing or not.   
  
“Jensen!”  
  
 _Oh thank God. Thank you sweet merciful God…_  
  
He turns around, softly smirking. “Yes, Jay?”  
  
Jared stands with his ankles crossed, leaning against the cart that takes all of his body weight easily.   
  
“Sure you want to start with a nine iron this early on in the game?”  
  
  
  
  
  
 **[ix]**  
  


  
“Sonofabitch!”  
  
Kyra tries not to giggle at the major Dean-flash she’s getting from a very agitated Jensen pacing (again) in her office. Yep, she’s been catching up on the seasons all week. The show is okay but the two lead actors are brilliant in their respective roles and hugely addictive. No wonder women are losing their minds over these two – they’re in almost every single scene in every single episode – it’s like classic eyeblink conditioning.  
  
“So what were you trying to do again?”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Try to keep up, Doc. You have no idea how much the kid has come to love golf. Almost as much as he loves Swedish Fish.”  
  
Kyra does smile this time. The fanblog got that one wrong: it lists Twizzlers as Jared’s favorite chewy gummy candy.  
  
“So you thought making him mad about what he’s missing might make him crack, and it didn’t.”  
  
“Not at all, not even a little bit! Instead I ended up having to play a million games when that was the last thing I wanted to do.”   
  
Jensen flings both his hands in the air in utter exasperation. Then narrows his eyes at her, and puts his fists on his hips. “He’s playing me.”  
  
Kyra shakes her head and rests her chin on her left hand knuckles, elbow propped up on the desk.  
  
“He knows I’m trying to get him to talk and because he’s still mad at me, he’s doing everything in his power to resist.”  
  
“Did it occur to you that maybe it is still too painful for him to talk about it? Jensen, maybe you shouldn’t be forcing him.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Then what should I be doing, Doc. You’re the expert, you tell me.”  
  
Kyra nods. “Well first of all thank you for remembering that I am the therapist in this room. And second, maybe… maybe you should give him time, Jensen. Let him come around on his own.”  
  
Jensen opens his mouth to argue, but doesn’t seem to come up with anything useful so stoops his shoulders and comes back to sit on the couch instead. He runs his hands through his dark blond hair and Kyra finds herself following every little gesture with enrapt attention.   
  
“That’s just it, you know. We don’t have much time left…”  
  
Kyra looks down at her notes, not sure what to say.   
  
“I can’t stand it, Kyra. His silence… his numbness… it’s killing him inside. Hell, it’s killing  _me_. He’s supposed to be the one doing his best to get on my nerves, not the other way around. He’s supposed to constantly vie for my attention – twenty four seven three sixty five days a year because that’s just how he is! Not the… the quiet man pretending to not exist or care that every last drop of blood in me is focused on nothing but him.”  
  
Kyra allows for a few seconds of silence to let Jensen absorb the gravity of his own words, add more or renege if that’s what he needs to do. But Jensen just lights up another cigarette and turns away to the ocean. It seems to anchor him somehow.   
  
“I’m scared, Doc.”  
  
“Of what?”  
  
“Of the possibility that… that he might never forgive me. That he might be distancing himself from me as we speak, and after Pebble Beach we… we might not even be friends anymore… until one day he’ll forget I ever existed and… damn it. I don’t know what to do.”  
  
Kyra bites her lip and chooses her next words carefully. “Jensen, with everything you’ve described, yes, I think Jared is distancing himself from you, but not because he is planning to push you away.”  
  
Jensen turns to her and frowns. “What else can it be?”  
  
The therapist gulps softly. “Self-preservation.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
Jensen grimaces almost as if he’s in physical pain. “Jared knows this is our last… our last vacation together. The show’s done, unless we choose to go back for season six and the network wants us to, but… we’re so tired, Doc. Both our careers have been stuck in the horror genre way too long and besides, Kripke doesn’t want to do this anymore and we don’t want to do it without Kripke and…”  
  
“I wasn’t talking about the show, Jensen.”  
  
“But it  _is_  about the show, damn it!” Jensen stands up in a rush and starts to pace again.   
  
“Don’t you see, everything’s got to do with this fucking show! We, we moved from LA to Vancouver for this show… we met each other on the show, we went from colleagues to best friends to lovers during this show. Hell, we’ve been fucking wrapped up in each other for five years because of this show and – and now that it’s over, it is time to go back to our normal lives, focus on our careers and our other friends and family again. It is the sensible thing to do. He wants to do it, and so do I. We agreed on this together!”  
  
“Okay, okay.” Kyra stands up as well, walks over to Jensen and puts a hand on his arm, trying desperately to calm him down. She can feel the man’s frame heaving under her touch.   
  
“It is a combination of things, Jensen. There is the… trauma from the assault that he’s still struggling to come to terms with. And then there is this massive wave of change heading towards him – a life without you. Jared seems to be steeling himself against the pain that he knows is just waiting ‘round the corner.”  
  
“I’m not immune to that pain, you know. Doesn’t he know I feel it too?”  
  
Kyra shrugs. “He probably doesn’t. Maybe he thinks it’s not such big a deal to you and he doesn’t want to look weak or pathetic in comparison.”  
  
There is a look of comprehension that, every time it appears in her client’s eyes, gives Doctor Sedgwick great assurance that she probably doesn’t suck so much at her job after all. The gorgeous green eyes go wide for a second before they squint again, looking deep into Kyra’s own eyes for confirmation.   
  
“So you’re saying that… the reason he won’t talk to me about the  _assault_ , is because talking about it would mean having to let his guards down and… and he’s afraid of what else he might say if he does that?”  
  
“Bingo.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Even if he agrees with your decision to part ways on a practical level, a part of him doesn’t want to let you go. The same way that a big part of you isn’t ready to let him go either. Am I wrong?”  
  
Jensen doesn’t respond. He simply looks away, spacing out for another few minutes. Kyra lets him be.  
  
  
  
  
  
 **[x]**  
  


  
Jared uses the tip of his right hand thumb, otherwise immobile in its cast, to click the speaker button on the phone and switch it off. When he looks up, Jensen can feel him shooting daggers all the way from across the room.   
  
He smirks. “How’s mommy?”  
  
Jared scowls at him with more anger than Jensen’s seen in his face all week. Progress.  _Well played, Ackles._  
  
“You know I hate lying to her.”  
  
Of course! It is precisely why he set up the call first thing this morning in the first place, hoping Jared would maybe open up to his momma, and maybe even get emotional and shed a few tears or something – anything. Instead, Jared had quickly slipped into Jared Padalecki the actor mode and played up the same cover story the network released to the press with absolute gusto.   
  
 _Actor Jared Padalecki, one of the main leads on the hit CW series Supernatural, was rushed to Vancouver General Hospital late last night after a freak accident resulted in both his hands being crushed under the weight of a Toyota Tundra…_  
  
Really? That’s the best a whole fucking TV network could come up with?  
  
“Yeah ma, I’m fine… No ma, I don’t need anything… Yes ma, Jensen’s taking care of me…  _good_  care of me… No ma, my hands don’t hurt so much anymore – come on it’s only a couple of fractures… How many? …Fifteen, really? …I thought it was twelve? ….Wow, really?.... Fine, I’ll pray… yes ma, every night ma… No ma, I’m not playing golf, it’s physically impossible actually… yeah, well this time it really is… “  
  
“You’ve got to stop doing this, Ackles.”  
  
Jensen stops pressing the pieces of fresh fruit into the blender. Ackles – Jared hasn’t called him that in years, definitely not when it’s just the two of them. Part of him sees it as a good thing – an indication that Jared might be reaching his melting point after all. And yet another part wants to retreat right the fuck now and not spend their last few days together trying to get on each other’s nerves.   
  
‘Course, it doesn’t  _have_  to be their last few days together…   
  
Jensen sighs, turns away from his feeble attempt at making exotic fruit smoothies, and comes over to sit by Jared’s side on the couch. His nostrils are flaring again. Jensen puts a hand under Jared’s chin and lifts it up until he’s gazing into those heated eyes again.   
  
“Bet she was glad to hear your voice after a whole week, huh?”  
  
Jared pulls his face away from Jensen in undisguised annoyance. “Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to break it to her over the phone? Did you think at all about what it might do to her?”  
  
Shit. Okay, so maybe Jensen hasn’t been thinking straight of late at all.  
  
“I was thinking she’s your mom and she loves you. And you need to talk to someone but it sure as hell ain’t me… damn it, you don’t even look at me these days, Jay…”  
  
Jared still doesn’t look at him. And silence has already been established to be acquiescence, so there.  
  
“I know you’re mad at me.”  
  
“No, I’m not.”  
  
“Well you’re mad at something!”  
  
“Yeah and it’s not you so stop making it all about yourself and leave me the hell alone, okay?”  
  
Jensen feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. His first, instinctive reaction is to get up and walk, run away and keep running until he can’t hear Jared’s harsh words ringing in his ears anymore. But that’d be exactly what Jared is accusing him of – selfish.   
  
He steels his nerves and, at the risk of getting his head bitten off, tries again. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have set you up like that.”  
  
Jared purses his lips and doesn’t respond.   
  
“Friends?”  
  
At that, the younger man rolls his eyes.   
  
“Pretty please?”  
  
And then he laughs. Emptily. “I’m supposed to be the cute one, not you.”  
  
Jensen heaves a sigh of relief. “Yeah well, desperate times and shit.”  
  
Jared’s bandages are starting to itch. He uses the back of one hand to brush back and forth against the side of the other and it’s been making Jensen nervous all morning. Tentatively he reaches out and puts his hand on Jared’s hands, stilling them under the slight pressure.   
  
“Don’t do that, baby.”  
  
Jared grimaces but obeys. Encouraged, Jensen gets up from the couch and sits on the coffee table in front of Jared instead, fitting one leg in between Jared’s open ones until their thighs are aligned together. Jensen’s left knee is just barely grazing against Jared’s groin, as is Jared’s knee against his.   
  
“Prickles like a bitch,” Jared mutters.   
  
“I might know a way to distract you, if you want?”  
  
The words have barely left Jensen’s mouth when Jared lifts his face up to seek out Jensen’s lips. Jensen silently thanks the Lord he doesn’t quite believe in for small mercies and closes his mouth over Jared’s, letting all his senses slowly immerse themselves into the greatest pleasure he has ever known. Kissing Jared.   
  
The extreme mood swings aren’t lost on him. Jared’s known to pendulate from one end of the emotional spectrum to another but it’s never occurred so fast and so suddenly in the past. Whatever it is, he’s just glad Jared doesn’t stay mad at him for too long. Least not on the surface.   
  
“Stretch,” he commands, to which Jared just looks adorably confused. Jensen puts a hand on one of his shoulders and gently pushes. “Lie down, like this…”  
  
Jared goes where he’s led, until he’s stretched out on the couch, his head supported by an armrest and his hands folded over his stomach. Jensen unbuttons the younger man and pushes his jeans and briefs down his endless legs until they’re completely off. He then seats himself on the couch between the vee of Jared’s legs, bending one at the knee and letting the other dangle to the floor. Jared shivers, and it’s a full body phenomenon.  
  
“Shh…”  
  
Jensen leans over the other man, capturing the slightly open lips with his own just as his hands gently push stray strands of hair back from the perfectly chiseled face. Tongues entangle in a passionate dance, gliding and stroking against the other in a way that’s familiar and comfortable. When they part, it’s for lack of fucking oxygen but that doesn’t stop Jensen from heading down on Jared’s elegantly slender body. He kisses every inch of that intriguingly mole-speckled skin, laving the brown nubs on Jared’s chest until he is arching up clear off the couch’s surface in wanton need.   
  
Jensen grasps the narrow hips to push Jared down as he slowly slides down the couch. Jared gasps, obviously knowing where this is headed. The sparse bush of pubic hair is usually the place Jensen starts. He curls an auburn lock of hair around one finger and tugs softly, eliciting another gasp that is sheer music to Jensen’s ears. The cock is like the rest of Jared – long and slender and scrupulously clean and absolutely beautiful. Jensen keeps one hand scratching the pubes and with the other, he strokes the shaft and massages the balls alternatively. He could do this all day, feel up his gorgeous lover inside and out, and hear him bite his desperate moans back in delicious agony. Moans that Jared can’t hold back once Jensen closes his mouth around the swelling head, sucking at it as if it were a popsicle.   
  
Jared throws his head back and practically mewls as Jensen proceeds to suck him in, inch by inch, until Jensen’s nose is pressed into the pubes he adores so much and Jared’s cock is hitting the back of his throat. Obviously, he’s had years of practice and knows exactly what to do to drive Jared out of his freaking mind. But today, Jensen blows Jared like his life depends on it. Lips move up and down on the glistening shaft as one hand plays with the quickly tightening balls, and the other circles his anus with deathly precision. Jared twitches and jerks and whimpers, his legs spasming with the intensity of his building arousal. Jensen revels in the power that he holds over Jared, the power to grant him the release he so craves, or keep him teetering on the fucking brink of it for as long as it suits Jensen’s whims and fancies. But this isn’t the time for teasing or torturing the young man. All Jensen wants to do today is make him feel special, wanted, loved… remind him of the happier times, the “normal” they once shared.   
  
And could maybe share again, for ever… who said it  _has_  to end?  
  
Jared comes with a loud scream, as he usually does. At least that part hasn’t changed. Jensen swallows him down drop for drop, suckling away at the tip to make sure he didn’t miss any. Jared writhes under the ministrations and tries to pull the older man up instead. Jensen obliges, stretching out nearly on top of him, careful not to crush his hands in any way. Once there, he unzips himself and works his own arousal to blissful completion, rutting against Jared’s completely spent dick.   
  
Jared entwines his arms around Jensen’s neck, holding him close to his body and keeping him there long after they’ve both climaxed. Jensen rests his head on Jared’s chest, listening to his heartbeat simmer down as his body recovers post-orgasm. It’s all so… nearly perfect,  _nearly_  because Jensen is painfully aware of one tiny detail.   
  
Through it all, Jared never did stop shivering. In fact he’s still shaking, wrapped around Jensen as he is, scaring the living daylights out of him.  
  
**  
  
They have lunch on the terrace – ordering Jared’s favorite pizza from Papa John’s. The ocean view never seems to get old, for either one of them. But Jensen finds himself studying Jared’s quiet profile more than he looks at the waves today.   
  
“So how about that drive, Jay?”  
  
Jared seems to think about it and then shrugs. “Why not…”  
  
Okay, so Jensen is used to a lot more enthusiasm from Jared than that, but this will just have to do.   
  
Joseph and Trager insist on coming along, tailing the actors in a black SUV at a short distance. This is another reason why Jared hasn’t left the confines of their suite more than once in the last ten or so days they’ve been here. Even that one trip to Links was a logistical nightmare, making sure he had complete privacy. No chance encounters with any star-struck jumpers for them. Not this time. Maybe not ever.   
  
Jensen flips open the top of the silver BMW convertible and takes the scenic route right along the Pacific shore from Spanish Bay all the way to Pecadero Point – a place he chooses for no other reason but that it’s the farthest point they can drive to before the course turns itself to head back to the Inn. Jensen keeps one eye on the road, another on Jared, rejoicing in the slow degrees of relaxation seeping into the younger man’s face and body.   
  
He takes in the short-sleeved dark blue shirt that he’d helped Jared into, that reaches just above the brown leather belt with the massive Texas buckle clasped around his narrow waist. The belt is an absolute necessity seeing how it is holding up his pair of ill-fitting and fading baggy jeans that are also tattered on both knees. His brown shades and a pair of Kenneth Cole’s leather sandals finish the look – and it’s not the look of a Hollywood actor on vacation, hell, far from it. Instead, Jared looks like an overgrown teenager, long and lean and unintentionally gorgeous, who just happens to be wearing a pair of white golf gloves, maybe just for the heck of it.   
  
Jared lets his head fall back on top of the seat and closes his eyes, soaking in the sun. The radio stations do the best they can, filling the silence in the car with some of their favorite tunes. Well, Jared’s mostly, considering he’s less picky about his music than Jensen is. After a few minutes, he notices a look of yearning on Jared’s face despite the shades covering his alluring eyes. It is the way he chews at his lip that’s always a dead giveaway.   
  
“What are you thinking?”  
  
“Nothin…”  
  
“Come on… I’m actually trying to make small talk for a change, throw me a bone will ya?”  
  
Jared smiles coyly. “Just wishing I could’ve driven this thing. She sure looks  _and_  sounds sweet.”  
  
Jensen smirks a little proudly at having made this brilliant rental choice. “She’s a beauty alright. And I really wish you could, Jay, but…”  
  
“I know, I know. Whatever. Some vacation.” Jared grumbles and sprawls back into his seat. Not enough leg space for his long frame but that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway.  
  
Jensen curbs the sudden urge to lick at the long and exposed column of throat beside him. “Hey, there’s always a next time, huh?”  
  
Jared lifts his head at that. “No, Jensen. There isn’t.”  
  
The smile on Jensen’s face promptly disappears. He wants to argue, counter back with a heartfelt and over-the-top romantic confession of his deepest darkest desires, but he can’t. He never was any good with words.  _Or rejection_.   
  
There is silence for awhile as Jensen goes from zero at a stop sign to eighty under three seconds. After much deliberation though, he clears his throat.   
  
“There could be, you know, if you want, that is.”  
  
“What? Family getaways with you, your wife and your one point five kids in tow? No thanks.”  
  
Jensen swallows. Hard. “No, I mean… us. Just you and me. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and… it doesn’t have to end, Jay.”  
  
“I’m not gonna be your closet bitch that you visit once every quarter, Jensen.”  
  
Jensen winces painfully. He slows down until he comes to a stop at the side of the road and turns to look at his best friend of five years, the man who is so smart most of the time but so fucking dense when it matters the fucking most. He hears the SUV following them screech to a halt and pull up on the gravel somewhere behind.   
  
“Why do you go assuming the very worst of me all the time? You gotta give me a little more credit than that, man.”   
  
Jared sits up and turns to him at that, his face hardened to the point that Jensen can actually see the nerves straining in his forehead.   
  
“Why are we even talking about this? I thought this was a done deal – make a clean break after the show ends and never look back for the sake of both our lives. And our careers. Those were  _your_  words, Jensen. Remember?”  
  
Jensen sighs and takes his glasses off. “Yeah, I remember but… Jay, that was then. This is… things are different now.”  
  
“How? How are they different, huh?” Jared isn’t holding back today, and a part of Jensen is really  _really_  glad for it. “Don’t make any stupid promises you’ll regret later just because you feel guilty for what happened to me, Ackles. I do credit you with more brains than that.”  
  
“Damn it, okay, maybe part of it is guilt but it’s more than that…”  
  
“Yeah? Like what?”  
  
Jared looks at him, still frowning, still disbelieving and cynical and… and deeply hurting.   
  
“What is it, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen sighs and looks down at his hands, clenched tight over the wheel of the car.   
  
“Maybe, it is this realization that… that life for the past five years has been… incredible and beautiful and absolutely perfect and it’s been that way because of you.”  
  
The words are low, the voice barely a rasp. Jensen doesn’t know what Jared hears though – his fear and hesitation, or his desperation and love. Maybe neither. Maybe all.  
  
“Maybe, I realize now that I don’t want it to end. I don’t want  _us_  to end.”  
  
Jared stares at him for who knows how long, his chest heaving with the weight of everything he continues to hold inside, gripping to himself tight. Still not letting anything out.   
  
“It’s called resistance to change. It’s normal, happens to everyone– “  
  
“Jay…”  
  
“Let me out.”  
  
The words are like knives stabbed through to his heart, until Jensen realizes Jared is talking about letting him out of the car. But metaphor or not, that’s just as bad.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Let me out, Jensen!”  
  
Jensen purses his lips and doesn’t move. Which is the wrong move because Jared immediately turns away and tries to open his door himself, folding his injured hand in the way that he absolutely shouldn’t.   
  
“Wait!! Okay, let me get that.”  
  
Jensen grudgingly reaches across Jared and pulls the release latch to open the car door. His arm brushes against the quivering frame beside him and all he wants to do is grab a hold of Jared and never let him go. But Jared is out of the car before he can even complete that thought, walking off towards the edge of the water stretched out beside them.   
  
“Jay!”  
  
Jensen gets out as well, like he has a choice, and looks behind him to see if their bodyguards are still around. Joseph and Trager are both out of the car and following suit. From the looks of this place, Jensen figures this must be the Fanshell Overlook – the white sands beach that is apparently irresistible to harbor seals in the spring, which is… right about now. By the time he turns around, Jared is already halfway down to the shoreline and Jensen breaks into a run to catch up.   
  
“Jay! Stop man, please listen to me…”  
  
“No, you listen to me, Jensen!” Jared practically yells at him, spinning around towards Jensen as he comes to a sudden dead stop, forcing Jensen to do the same about ten feet away.   
  
“I know you care about me and I know you’re still pretty rattled by what happened, but you can’t go and completely overhaul all your life’s plans because I am a dumbfuck moron who can’t be trusted to take care of his own fucking self, let alone anyone else!”  
  
“Stop being so melodramatic!” Jensen takes a step forward, only to drive Jared two steps back. So he stops. Instead he tries to assure his best friend the only way he can think how. “I don’t think any less of you now than I did before, Jay, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
Jared starts to shake his head, taking another step backwards and away from him. “I don’t know what to trust anymore…”  
  
The voice breaks on the last word and Jensen curses himself for ever wishing to see Jared break down. He’s never seen this man cry, not real tears, and he doesn’t want to start now. Sam Winchester’s bawling every other episode until the end of season three doesn’t count.   
  
“I know, I know Jay, it’s hard to trust anyone after what happened. But the one person you can’t ever stop trusting is yourself, okay? Listen to your heart, Jay. Listen to it and tell me, do you really wanna say goodbye? Do you? Because  _I_  don’t. Do you really believe I’d ever lie to you about this?”  
  
“Would you have changed your mind if all this shit had  _not_  happened?”  
  
“How do you know I  _wouldn’t_  have, Jay? How do you know I haven’t been thinking about it for weeks now, but didn’t have the guts to admit it before? Damn it Jay, what if I told you that, that night I was already on the verge of ditching the plane and coming back home to you  _before_  Cliff gave me the call?”  
  
“Well, we’ll never know now, will we?”  
  
Waves slap down on the shore with displaced rage. Jensen takes one small step after another, until he finally reaches Jared but he doesn’t push his luck any further. He puts his hands in the pockets of his long black cargos, letting the open ends of his summer shirt, white this time, flutter in the strong wind blowing from the sea.   
  
Jared looks down at his gloved hands before slowly raising his right one to his face. Hooking the frame between two finger tips he manages to pull his shades away from his face and Jensen is right there to catch them before they fall when his fingers can’t hold them anymore. It is almost as if he needs Jensen to look into his eyes the same way that he needs to look into Jensen’s when he says his next words.   
  
“Thanks to this shit in the papers, everyone now thinks I’m a stupid drunk, Jensen.”  
  
“But you’re not.”  
  
“Damn right I’m not!” He screams, almost like an adamant little child. “I don’t wanna be the stupid fucking pebble that should’ve stayed a rock, Jensen.”  
  
Jensen’s mouth falls open for a second, his eyes go wide first and then they narrow and he just can’t help but laugh. “That’s funny Jay ‘cause, see in my head, I always cast you as the wave.”  
  
It is Jared’s turn to look taken aback, though he doesn’t react.   
  
“Every single fucking time.”  
  
The sound of the water seems to not be so angry anymore. Funny how these magnificent water bodies seem to adapt themselves to Jensen’s moods every time he comes to one. It’s like they read his mind, and they can always, without fail, empathize. And some days that alone is enough to bring him peace, short-lived as it may be.   
  
All other times, which is basically most of the time, he needs Jared.   
  
Jared swallows hard and turns around, starting to once again walk away from Jensen, who breaks into a little jog until he catches up.   
  
“Jay, wait. Where are you going?”  
  
“It’s too late, Jensen. It’s just too late. Please let it go because…”  
  
But he never gets to finish. A shrill scream shatters through the breadth of what was clearly an extremely fragile moment and the men jump a little before turning towards the source of the noise. It is a woman in her thirties howling and shrieking and looking way too excited for anyone’s sanity, including her own. And of course she will come running towards the two Supernatural stars. Why wouldn’t she?  
  
“Shit,” Jensen mutters, running his hands through his spiked blond hair in exasperation. He isn’t surprised when Joseph and Trager appear out of nowhere and intercept the woman before she can get to them. They practically carry her away, confused and more than a little pissed, while Joseph signals at Jensen to get back in the car soon as possible. Jensen shakes his head and sighs – that’s another one never watching their show again.   
  
He sends a quick nod to Joseph and turns around, fully expecting Jared to have stalked off to the other side of the bay to try and get away from the fan. God knows Jared’s had enough of those to last him a couple of lifetimes.   
  
Instead, Jared is standing right there, just behind Jensen, almost as if he’d reflexively sought protection.  _With Jensen_. His face is white as a sheet and he’s locked one of Jensen’s arms within the crook of one elbow, seeing as his hands would be useless to hold anything.   
  
Jensen finds himself smiling even as Jared glares at him and quickly un-links his arm away from him. Then on his own he turns to walk back towards the car. Clearly the clinging was just a visceral reaction, borne out of his recent traumatic experience, and Jensen knows that. And now that it is over, Jared tries to get away so quickly, he nearly trips himself up.   
  
“You okay there, champ?”  
  
“Go to hell.”  
  
Jensen chuckles again and calls out after the retreating figure. “I’m not giving you up, Jay!”  
  
The figure pauses, just for a moment, before he starts walking away again. Leaving Jensen to softly whisper words heard by no one but himself, and possibly the rocks and the waves. Words that, even as he says them, desperately wishes for them to be true.   
  
“It’s never too late.”  
  
  
  
  
  
 **[xi]**  
  


  
Kyra waits for Jensen to pull out his box of cigarettes like he usually does, but he doesn’t. Damn.  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
Jensen seems to start at that, turning away from the sea-facing window and toward her, flashes her a hundred watt smile.   
  
“I’m… I’m still in yesterday.”  
  
“Uh-uh.”  
  
Jensen lowers his eyes to an obscure spot on her carpet and bites his lip, but the smile doesn’t go away. “Let’s just say I feel like a thousand tons of weight just got lifted off my shoulders, you know?”  
  
Kyra smiles back. Jensen does look kind of settled today. Everyone reacts to happiness and sadness in their own ways. Something tells her the ideal state of being for this man would involve a lot more silences and a lot less value for words. Possibly in sharp and complementary contrast to Jared, whose concept of contentment would be crackling with high amounts of energy and possibly be a whole lot noisier.   
  
No wonder they’re so perfect for each other.   
  
But there is a piece of the puzzle still missing. More than one, actually.   
  
“How did Jared react?”  
  
Jensen’s smile fades, just a little, but he stretches his arms out behind his head like he isn't worried. “I’m still working on that part.”  
  
“And you think he’ll come around?”  
  
“I hope so… man, I hope so. I mean I  _know_  so! Least I hope I know so…”  
  
Cute. Kyra rolls her eyes.   
  
“I’ll keep you posted.”  
  
“You do that.”  
  
“Of course we got ourselves the same problem we had two weeks ago.”  
  
Kyra nods. “Still not talking?”  
  
“Still not talking.”  
  
Kyra remembers the mention of Jared's awesome relationship with his mother, and wasn’t Jensen planning to leverage that the last time they met?  
  
“Yeah, that didn’t go so well either.” Jensen scratches his head, looking lost. “He’s very close to his mom and I know it’s killing him to be keeping such a huge thing from her.”  
  
“She doesn’t know that it was  _not_  a freak accident?”  
  
“Nope. Just thinks it’s another one of Jared’s moments,” Jensen spaces out for a bit and then chuckles. “Jay’s known to be really accident prone, you know. He’s always seeing a doctor. Like, every four months. And that’s excluding checkups. Been that way ever since he was born really.”  
  
Kyra frowns, not sure if that is something she could be as amused about as Jensen looks. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, these would be his fourteenth and fifteenth bone fractures in total – so he’s had like, one every year ever since he was ten years old. And apparently he was this… miracle kid, or something. He got really, really sick right after being born and the doctors gave him a ten percent chance of making it. To this day, every now and then, Jeff, his older brother, teases him, calls him the ten-percent baby.”   
  
Kyra chuckles and thinks back to the pictures of a young Jared she’d seen online. He must have been such a happy child. What an absolute joy it must have been to raise him and watch him grow from a beautiful little boy to the almost perfect man that he is today.   
  
“So, what do you want to do now?”  
  
Jensen sighs and stands up, walks over to the window and there comes the box of smokes, out at last. Kyra tries to ignore her own craving for nicotine and stay on point.   
  
“I’m out of ideas, Doc. If you got something, I’m all ears.”  
  
“I wish I had all the answers, Jensen. But looks like you’re gonna have to figure this out yourself.”  
  
Jensen sighs, and after a minute he seems to recall something. “You know there’s a good reason why, in my story, Jay’s always the wave. See I’ve got to be the rock, right – all silent and stoic and… strong…?”  
  
Uh-uh. Kyra taps her pencil on the clipboard holding her notes and tries her best not to roll her eyes.   
  
“And Jared’s got to be the wave ‘cause he’s always so… so fluid and energetic and bouncing off the walls, not to mention really loud and  _chatty_.”  
  
He smirks, flicking ash off his cigarette into the nearby ashtray absent-mindedly.   
  
“He’s young and passionate and I’m old and cynical. He trusts so easily and I distrust anything and everything that comes with so much as a whiff of ‘faith’ attached to it.”  
  
“You’re atheist?”   
  
But the websites say he is - ? Kyra is met with a shrewd smirk on Jensen’s face, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking.   
  
“Don’t trust everything Kristin tells you, sweetheart. I was brought up Baptist, yeah. But eventually, I guess, I just found my own way. Or lost it, if you take Jay’s word for it.”  
  
 _That_  is not on the websites for sure. Kyra frowns. “I take it Jared is still firmly entrenched in the Catholic values he was raised with?”  
  
“Hell yeah. Jay doesn’t go to church in Vancouver or pray every night. But he is a strong believer, yeah. Sharon, his mom, is pretty devout far as I know. Especially given his birth story and all…”   
  
Jensen stares off into nowhere as he thinks aloud. “I want that Jared back, Doc. I don’t care how or what I have to do… I  _need_  that Jared back.” He rubs his eyes tiredly. “I miss that… that exasperation, that head-shaking, eye-rolling, I-can’t-believe-I’m-in-love-with-a-maniac feeling I used to have, constantly, non-stop, all day and all night. It was like living with a fucking whirlwind and I  _loved_  it.”  
  
Kyra tries not to chuckle at that. Hearing about Jared from Jensen three hours a week might not seem like too long a time, but already she feels like she knows this man she’s never even met. Jared is the closest thing to extroversion personified if Jensen is to believed, but thanks to some very, very sick people, he seems to have lost all faith in…   
  
Wait a minute.  
  
“Jensen, has he mentioned God, in any way, shape or form since the assault?”  
  
Jensen thinks and frowns. “No, not really. In fact… not at all. Why?”  
  
Kyra doesn’t really want to do this, but it’s her job as a therapist to poke and prod at every inch of a scab and make sure it’s really healing underneath.   
  
“Assuming you’re really a cynic, which I don’t think you are, you just like to be seen that way…”  
  
“Oh, come on!”  
  
“Alright, fine, you are a grumpy old misanthropist. So if something like this happened to you, what would your first reaction be?”  
  
Jensen bites his lip and shrugs. “I don’t know. Anger, I guess? I’d wanna know why… why those girls hated me so much? Why… why did they… how could they be so fucking sick and yet so cold and calculated at the same time? How did no one notice what was going on with them and stop it in time? Where were their fucking parents? Why did they not do their jobs right? Why… just… fuck dammit why did this happen to me?”  
  
Kyra doesn’t need to wonder where the intense empathy comes from. Jensen is practically tearing up with the frustration and rage he still holds inside. She swallows and allows a couple of seconds for Jensen to calm down.   
  
“Okay Jensen. That’s good. Now, put yourself in Jared’s shoes. If you were a religious person, if you’d been deeply touched and influenced by elements of the Christian religion all your life – Jesus and Mary, the cross – what would your first reaction be?”  
  
Jensen frowns as he takes a couple seconds. “Why…. Why did  _God_  let this happen to me?”  
  
“Exactly.”   
  
Kyra sees it, the moment the lights come on in Jensen’s eyes. He throws his cigarette out the window and starts heading out the door.   
  
“Jensen? Where you going?”  
  
He remembers her then. “Sorry, I… there’s something I need to do. I’ll see you later, Kyra. Soon. And thanks.”  
  
And then he’s gone. Once again, the paradox of the situation isn’t lost on her. Someone please tell her she didn’t just send a frigging skeptic out to restore another man’s faith?   
  
She drops her head to the desk with a thump.   
  
“Way to go, Doctor Sedgwick.”  
  
  
 ********

 

**(tbc)**


	4. Chapter 4

**[xii]**   
  


  
Jensen gets into his car, a black Maserati this time, and drives away from Doctor Sedgwick’s office in a hurry. The way he breaks at least a dozen traffic rules to get back to the Inn, you’d think he was rushing to reach the side of a dying loved one or something equally morbid.   
  
The visit to the doctor’s is the one and only trip he gets to make alone, and that’s because Joseph has explicit instructions not to leave Jared-watch under any condition and Trager, being the newest to the pack, is way too malleable. But it’s a risk Jensen has been taking three days a week, for the sake of both their sanities – his and Jared’s. He just hopes all the  _talking_  and the frigging heart-to-hearts will eventually be worth it.   
  
Everything is starting to fall into place. All this time he’d been craving to have his old Jay back, have him talk to him like he used to, and all he had to do was pay attention to the painfully few words Jared  _did_  speak because Jared was right, about  _him_.   
  
Jensen  _is_  selfish, and self-centered. He made it all about himself.  _His_  guilt,  _his_  unresolved feelings, his fears and rage and regrets… so much, that he missed what should have been obvious to him from the get go.  
  
Jensen wills his knees to stop shaking, preparing himself mentally for what he must do next. Pulling into the parking, he gets out of the car and strides into the hotel, heading straight up to the Presidential suite after confirming with Joseph that the younger actor is still inside.   
  
He finds Jared napping like he usually does, like the meds in his system usually force him to, this time of the afternoon. Jared lies on his side, his arms casually bent up at the elbows, hands resting next to each other on Jared’s pillow. Jensen stretches out on the bed beside Jared as lightly as possible, mimicking the posture by turning on his side as well, facing Jared.   
  
It is a little after four. Anytime now, Jared’s medically induced rest would break and he would wake. Anytime. Meanwhile, all Jensen does is watch. Jensen has always liked this long-haired look for Sam, and it just got longer in the last season. He could watch the ends of Jared’s silky brown hair curl up around that perfect jaw line and the base of that cream-white neck all day.   
  
When Jared comes to, it’s like always… a breath that’s just a tad deeper – more like a sigh breaking him out of his sleep. His entire body heaves with the force of that breath.   
  
“Hey, baby…”  
  
Jared’s eyelids flutter at that, and moments later he opens his eyes to look up at his companion. He frowns softly, and is almost about to smile when something falters in his eyes and he stops. Jensen doesn’t like that.   
  
“Truce?” He says with a pleading look in his eyes, anything to get Jared to start talking to him again.   
  
Jared sighs and after a couple seconds pass them by, he nods. His eyes don’t seem to be all that happy with the uneasy silence that had settled between the men since yesterday either.   
  
Jensen is relieved, and can’t help but smile as a sudden thought occurs to him.   
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothin’.”  
  
“Tell me? What is so amusing?”  
  
Jensen chuckles softly. “I was just thinking, this has to be the longest time we’ve gone without doing it ever since we got together.”  
  
Jared gives him a ‘you pervert I’m injured here’ look but it’s in good jest and they both end up chuckling a little.   
  
“Except the hiatuses of course,” he finally says and Jensen is happy to hear him participate.   
  
“Yeah, except those.”  
  
The windows are open, and they can hear the waves clashing against the rocks in the Pacific. Jared’s soft voice is the one that breaks the reverie.   
  
“I feel like I haven’t touched you in years.”  
  
“I’m right here. All you gotta do is reach out…”  
  
And Jared does. Jensen shifts closer so Jared can raise one bandaged hand and place it on the side of Jensen’s head so the skin of his wrist is in direct contact with Jensen’s cheek. Jared is still sleep-warm and relaxed and all Jensen wants to do is bury himself in the other man’s chest and wrap his arms tight around that torso and never ever let go.   
  
“Jay, did you think about what I said yeste– ”  
  
“Don’t ruin it, Ackles.”  
  
“But I thought you said you’d think about it.”  
  
“I thought  _you_  said you’d give me time.”  
  
Jensen shuts up, pouting sulkily a little, not that Jared seems to notice. Slowly, casually, Jared shifts in closer as well, until they can both align their mouths together, trapping each other in the sweetness of a kiss that’s desperate and passionate and full of pent-up, unspoken emotions. Jensen takes everything he can get, gratefully, happy to catch Jay in a mood that he can work with.   
  
They make out for who knows how long, letting Jared discover that the tips of his fingers hold about as much teasing power as the rest of his hand. And Jensen can’t take his hands out of Jared’s hair for even a minute so it sort of levels the playing field anyway.   
  
Jensen wrenches his mouth away for breath. “What do you want, Jay? My mouth?”  
  
“No,” comes the breathless reply immediately. Jensen starts, Jared has never refused a blowjob from him before. Like, ever. Not even when they’ve just gone four rounds and Jared thinks his dick might just fall off if Jensen touches it again.   
  
“I want you in me.”  
  
“But Jay…”  
  
Jared closes his mouth over Jensen’s to swallow his protests down. “Please, baby, figure it out. I  _need_  you in me.”  
  
Jensen could die, just die right fucking now. Half his brain is already working on scenarios to do this – maybe he could have Jared situated in his lap and riding his cock, bounce him up and down while keeping his hands safely around Jensen’s neck and out of harm’s way…   
  
It takes superhuman resolve to shut that side of his brain down, because there is something else that must take precedence now, before it is too late.   
  
“Alright, tonight then.”  
  
“No, right now, please…”  
  
“Shhh, look at me, Jay…”  
  
It takes a couple of attempts before Jared’s dilated pupils focus down and out of his momentary rush of lust. His smile falters when he meets Jensen’s eyes and Jensen pulls him closer to kiss him hard.   
  
“Tonight, I promise. We should, uh, conserve our energies, for tonight. Right now, I got a little day trip planned for us. Let’s get you up and ready, alright?”  
  
Jared groans in his disappointment and starts to turn away. “Why do you get to make all these decisions unilaterally, man?”  
  
Jensen laughs and pulls the unresisting body back towards him. “This is the last one, baby. I promise. After today, you can call all the shots, alright?”  
  
If Jared senses something off or different about Jensen’s sudden preference for abstinence, he doesn’t comment on it. Calmly, he answers yes or no to Jensen’s queries about which shirt and which jeans he’d like to go with today. A black button-down, and the same baggy jeans from yesterday? Of course.  
  
He waits until they’re in the car and well on their way towards Monterey, and Jensen must give him props for that.   
  
“So where are we going again?”  
  
“Some place the locals highly recommend, and Jamie apparently loved. I’m hoping you’ll like it too.”  
  
When Jared doesn’t comment, Jensen just carries on, more than willing to get another giant weight off his constricted chest.   
  
“Besides, I think we should have done this two weeks ago, back in Vancouver, right after you opened your eyes.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Offer our thanks, Jay, to ‘Numero Uno’ for giving you back to us.”  
  
Jared frowns and turns toward him again. “Are we going to…?”  
  
“The San Carlos Cathedral.”  
  
Jared suddenly doesn’t look so happy anymore. “I thought you were Baptist.”  
  
“Meh, tomato to-mah-to.” Jensen makes his couldn’t-care-less face. But the fact that they were going to a church Jared’s mom might take him to, is not lost on either of them.   
  
About twenty minutes later, they arrive outside a magnificent building in the middle of Church Street. After they park, Jensen turns to his companion and it’s immediately obvious Jared is not willing to leave the comfort of the car for  _this_  place. Not yet.   
  
“I’m gonna go in. You can take your time. I’ll wait for you inside.”  
  
Jensen runs a hand through Jared’s silky hair once, then quickly gets out of the car, before he thinks he might change his mind. He goes over to Jared’s side and unlocks his door so all Jared would have to do is push it aside and step out. Jensen then exchanges a look with the two men parked in a black SUV a few yards away and walks in through the giant oak doors of the cathedral.  
  
The church is… well, not as intimidating a structure as the old seventeenth century gothic architecture once allowed them to be. And this time of the day there is hardly anyone there, not even the pastor is around, so it’s quiet and peaceful. With the exception of an old couple in their eighties maybe, who sit in a corner farthest from the front, completely engrossed in each other. Jensen hasn’t come into one of these places in a while now. It’s unfortunate how he turned out to be exactly the opposite of what his parents tried to raise him to be.   
  
Ten minutes later, Jensen is lighting a candle when he hears the heavy, hesitant footsteps behind him. Jensen turns to greet Jared with a relieved smile, but it immediately fades at the expression he finds on the vulnerable face. He is hurting, his boy, and never, since he came to in the hospital, has his pain been as pronounced and obvious as it is now.   
  
“Why did you bring me here?”  
  
The question echoes through the hollowness and Jensen isn't sure how to respond. Jared comes to stop by the front most pew, leaning against it as if for support and he’s visibly shaking. He looks up at the giant cross and Jensen can only imagine what is going through his head at a sight that once brought him peace and made him feel safe and loved but now, all it stands for are traumatic memories of a night that should never ever have happened.   
  
“Why are you doing this, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen gulps, and turns back toward the cross. “Do you want to light a candle?”  
  
“To hell with the fucking candle!!”  
  
The old couple looks up then, and without a fuss, they get up to walk out of the church. Give the men their privacy. Jensen turns toward Jared at last, but he stays silent.   
  
“Is this funny to you, Jensen? Do you find it fascinating to watch? – me facing my demons at last? What’s a good reaction, you think? What’s…  _sellable_? What’s good entertainment, huh? I mean clearly I can’t just walk out, no – that’d be too dull. All documentary and no drama. So what should I do, Jensen? Tell me.”  
  
Jensen holds his tongue.  
  
“Should I kneel before the cross that I was nailed to, pretending to still love it? Bow before this ugly reminder of how this God I once blindly trusted and believed in abandoned me, and be thankful that I’m still alive to remember it?”  
  
Jensen flinches, not sure if he’s allowed to feel relieved that Jared didn’t include his name in the list of people who let him down that night. Jared sits down on the chair he’s been leaning against. He looks up at the cross through rage-filled eyes.   
  
“Did you know they waited for me to come back to consciousness? Before they nail-gunned my hands to the cross?”  
  
Jensen flinches violently.  
  
“They just stood there, watching me bleed, getting ready to punch another two through my feet next and one in the heart after that. Not a shred of regret or doubt in their cold eyes. Said they wanted me to feel every single moment of pain, listen to every drop of blood dripping out of my body, said that was to be my  _penance_.”   
  
Talking about what happened with Doctor Sedgwick had helped somewhat, desensitized Jensen enough to be able to bear this confrontation. But he still doesn’t want to re-live that horrific ordeal, damn it! Memories from that night are still stark and vivid in his head – when he, Cliff and a couple guys from the crew burst through the old abandoned church doors, only to find an encore performance of a scene they did back in episode five-sixteen – the one where a bunch of hunters gone bad try to exact revenge on Sam Winchester for turning Lucifer loose. Only this time, it was happening for real. A giant wooden cross put together from scaffolding parts, lying flat on the floor, a man stripped to his jeans in sub-zero temperature and tied down with thick nylon ropes, his arms stretched out to either side, and the pools of blood (real not corn syrup) gathering under each hand nailed to the board....  
  
Jared suddenly turns to Jensen and the look he gives the older man is absolutely gut-wrenching. “What did I do that was so wrong, Jensen?”  
  
“Jesus,” Jensen walks over to him and kneels before him on the ground. He is almost at eye level with Jared whose mouth is twisted into an expression of such misery, it tugs at Jensen’s heart. He holds the younger man’s face in both his hands.  
  
“You did nothing wrong, Jared. None of this is your fault! You have to know that…”  
  
“I thought so too, I thought I did everything right. Believed my mom when she said I was a good kid, a miracle kid. God’s favored child and shit.”  
  
Jensen strokes his wild hair out of Jared's face, feeling his restlessness as he writhes to get away from his hands.   
  
“Why did He let this happen to me, Jensen? Why did He let the memory of the five most important years of my life be ruined by something like this?”  
  
Fuck.  _Of course_. The show is over, and the plan was always to part ways once it did.   
  
“You’re gonna go back to your designer white picket fences life with Danneel.”  
  
“No, Jay, please listen, I…”  
  
“And I’m okay with that, Jensen. Really I am! You don’t have to give up your whole damn life for me! I just want you to be happy, and I’ll never, ever come in the way of what you want to do. But…”  
  
Jensen sighs and pulls his hands away, remembering what Doctor Sedgwick said about not interrupting or talking back at Jared when he does finally start to open up.  
  
“I told myself I could be happy knowing we’d had these five great years. I could live on the great memories of our time together, forever. It’s the only thing that’s made me carry on ever since you... got engaged.”  
  
“…”  
  
“But now?” Jared whimpers and it echoes through the giant halls painfully. “Now every time I think back to Supernatural, all I’ll remember is how badly it ended, for me, for Cliff and his crew. For  _you_. Every time I think of you, I’ll remember your panicked face back at the hospital by my side. How angry and helpless you looked. How…  _guilty_ …”  
  
“Every time someone asks for my autograph or photograph or whatever, my first instinct will be to run away, far as I can. I don’t even wanna  _think_  of Supernatural anymore, and it’s all His fault! He took it all away from me! And if that wasn’t enough, He let it happen in a fucking church.”  
  
“Jay…”   
  
“Everything’s gone, Jensen. It’s all gone.”  
  
“Don’t say that.”  
  
“What, didn’t I pray enough? Didn’t I go to church enough? Am I not fucking straight enough?”  
  
Jensen winces. “I thought you were past that.”  
  
Jared gnarls. “Well I don’t know what to fucking think anymore! I did everything right, least I thought I did. Then why?”  
  
Jensen rises from the floor and sits beside Jared on the pew, pulling the younger man into his arms and holding him as tight as he can. Jared buries his face in the crook of Jensen’s shoulder, his entire frame racked by shudders. Soon enough, hot wetness seeps through Jensen’s shirt and practically sears his skin, making Jensen hold him tighter to himself. Jared’s soft sniffles are amplified by the acoustics of the damn church and Jensen finds himself staring up at the cross – feeling about the same anger and a sense of betrayal that Jared does right now.   
  
 _But how do you feel anger for someone you don’t even believe exists?_    
  
“Why does anything bad ever happen, Jay,” he begins softly, knowing he’s treading really fragile ground here. “Why do kids die, why do wars happen, why do good people suffer more than others? I wish I had the answers. Maybe if I did, I’d still go to church and say grace like my folks wanted me to. But I don’t.”   
  
Jared snivels against Jensen’s neck, relaxing little by little against the older man’s frame. Jensen lets him be, rocking him from side to side hoping desperately to somehow, somewhat, make it better.  
  
“You know,” Jared pulls away a little. “Honestly, I don’t think I can stay angry at those girls forever. They were just two very sick kids driven to stark raving madness by how much they loved you. I guess I can relate.”  
  
Jensen shakes his head guiltily at that, until Jared turns to look at the cross again. “But I can hate Him forever. I know I will.”  
  
Damn it.   
  
“No, no you don’t. You can’t hate Him, Jay, you know why? Because you don’t have it in you to hate anybody. That’s how God made you, that’s why you’re His favorite.”  
  
Jared scoffs at that. “You’re making Him sound like old Yellow Eyes.”  
  
“What?” And when Jensen remembers, he snorts too. “No but seriously, you are, Jay. Look at you! You are kind and passionate and positive and funny and so inspiring. You make everyone around you happy that they know you.”  
  
Jensen wipes the tears off his face tenderly.   
  
“Jared, you are beautiful and wonderful and perfect because that’s how He made you, and you owe it to Him and to yourself to never let that change, man. You owe it to _me_.”  
  
Jared looks up at him, really  _looks_  at him… like he hasn’t seen him in forever. His heavy wheezing echoes through the dome, only a decibel louder than the strong tell-tale rhythm of Jensen’s own beating heart.   
  
And then Jared looks down at his hands. “I can’t stay fucking perfect forever, you know,” he drawls, articulating it with such sudden, genuine, calmness that Jensen isn’t sure what to make of yet.   
  
“I’ll get old, and moody, and boring, and cranky…”  
  
“In other words, you’ll turn into me?”  
  
“Something like that, yeah.”  
  
Jensen smiles, his own eyes brimming over. “You are always going to be perfect for me.”  
  
Tears start afresh and Jared tries to pull away from Jensen but he won’t have any of it. “No, you’re not going anywhere, Jay. I’m not letting you go.”  
  
Jared stills.  
  
“Not this time.”  
  
Jared keeps his eyes lowered and stays frozen and unresponsive for the longest time. That’s when Jensen starts to feel his fear of rejection return… the momentary rush of being swept away by emotions, only to sink to depths of despair and eternal loneliness.   
  
“Of course, if-if that’s not what you wa-want… I, I could – um, go away… maybe?”  
  
Catching a glimpse of the cross, just behind Jared in his direct line of sight, Jensen finds himself praying for the first time in a very, very long time. He feels blessed when Jared scoffs ever so softly, and looks up.   
  
“You have the worst timing, Ackles.”  
  
Jensen winces, but it’s a happy wince, really, making Jared shake his head in mild amusement. Tentatively, he reaches out with one bandaged hand, seeking contact with Jensen’s face. Jensen lets the stiff tips of his immobilized fingers draw random lines down his stubbled jaw. Curses himself silently for feeling all… well,  _lusty_ , inside a church. But he can’t help it – that’s the Jared effect. When the touch is withdrawn, Jensen takes said hand in both of his.   
  
“Are you sure?” Jared whispers, his voice still wet with tears. "It’s going to be harder than you think."  
  
Jensen can only smile because the answer is so very simple – how could he not see this before? It is a moment of complete and utter, and almost divine clarity. One in which he feels the universe literally shifting around them like the pieces of a complex puzzle finally sliding into place with a satisfying and soundless click.  
  
“The harder choice would have been trying to live without you, Jay. I'm only sorry I didn't see it before...”  
  
"Before the attack, you mean?" Jared finishes quietly, frames it as a question to which, Jensen suspects, he doesn't actually expect a response. He watches as Jared forces himself to look up at the cross again, and wonders if Jared is thinking what  _he_  is thinking. A couple seconds later, he decides he can't stand the suspense more.  
  
"The Lord works in mysterious ways, then?" He suggests, trying to smile but just ends up twisting his mouth into a sheepish little grimace.   
  
He is rewarded with a Jared chuckling ever so softly, turning back to look at Jensen. "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away," he whispers, remnants of resentment still lingering at the edges of what was supposed to be a joke.  
  
"Not everything's gone, Jay. You still have me."   
  
Jared doesn't reply. Instead, he quietly leans forward and buries his face in Jensen’s shoulder. The older man closes his arms around his boy in bittersweet relief, rocking him gently.  
  
  
  
  
  
 **[xiii]**  
  


  
Kyra looks at her watch. It’s a quarter past three in the afternoon, which probably means Jensen is not coming in today. She sighs and rises from her chair, steps out of her three inch Gucci heels and matching maroon business jacket. She walks up to her balcony and throws open the doors, letting the ocean breeze flood her office.   
  
There is so much about this case, the J2 case, as she likes to call it these days, that’s intriguing and challenging to her, not just as a therapist, but also as a human being. A wife.  
  
What makes two people as different as night and day (wave and rock) gravitate towards each other? What makes two strong individualistic personalities want to melt into each other, even as they continue to fear losing an identity of their own? How do some people overcome that fear and find happiness in their surrender, and why can’t others do the same? Like her husband?  
  
Kyra sighs and fishes out the box of Marlboro Lights and the lighter she keeps stashed at the bottom of a flower vase, for emergencies of course. Lighting up, she steps out onto the terrace. Closing her eyes, she exhales the smoke through her mouth and lifts her face up to the sky, bathing in the sea salt and sunlight.   
  
She’s glad for Jensen, who overcame his fears in a span of three weeks and is possibly a better, happier person for it. She is curious how Jared is doing – if he’s letting a bunch of creepy, delusional and most likely parental affection-starved  _children_  take away his ability to trust.   
  
She wonders what it is about the current generation that makes them so susceptible to fantasies and delusions. Are we so deeply unsatisfied with our real lives to want to completely immerse ourselves in fiction? And how unhappy does one have to be to react so freaking violently just because they didn’t get the ending they wanted to a fictional series?  
  
Yeah, it’s no secret that many fans didn’t quite appreciate (or maybe  _get_ ) the way they ended the last season, and quite possibly the whole series. Happy endings can mean so many different things to different people. Take Kyra, for example. A happy ending for many women means a drop-dead gorgeous, successful, millionaire husband. ‘Course, it isn’t enough for Kyra. All she wants is for Kevin to come home in time for dinner every night, surprise her with the occasional red rose maybe, if it’s not too much trouble.  
  
“Meh. Happy endings are so overrated.”  
  
Great. Now she is talking to herself.   
  
Kyra sighs and drags one last time on the cigarette stick, leaning against the balcony door. Who knows what ending fate has in mind for the Supernatural actors. One’s strangely reserved for an actor, self-centered (naturally, for an actor) and more than a little neurotic. The other is a frantic attention seeker, can’t stand to be disliked, and is quite possibly addicted to sugar to keep himself super-amped all the time. Neither is perfect. But they sure seem to be exactly what the other one needs.   
  
She drops the end of the cigarette to the floor and stubs it under her right foot. A second later she howls. Totally forgot she was still barefoot.   
  
“Ow Ow Ow…”  
  
“Doctor Sedgwick?”  
  
Try twisting around suddenly when in the middle of already jumping around on one foot: it should be entertaining, if you don’t break something first.  
  
“Oh, hi! Uh, I didn’t think you were coming today…”  
  
Jensen tilts his head and squints at her. “You alright there?”   
  
“Yeah, yeah. Just… exercising, heh. Come on in.”  
  
He waits for her to come into the office from the terrace and bites his lip coyly. “I got someone here I’d like you to meet.”  
  
“Oh my God.” Kyra instinctively covers her open mouth with a hand.  _He did it_.   
  
Jensen opens the door again to reveal a tall, lanky young man standing behind it with his arms crossed behind him, as if hiding them. It’s going to take him a while to get over that stance for sure.   
  
“Jared Padalecki. At last,” she smiles up at him and he returns it, even though it’s kind of awkward and shrink-wary and 'yeah whatever'. He is wearing a white button-up over a really bad pair of jeans that make Kyra instantly suspect that he’s way too self-conscious about his skinny legs. It’s a strange look for a young and upcoming Hollywood celebrity. Hell, even Sam Winchester looks infinitely well put together in comparison  
  
“Nice office,” he offers as he ambles in, staying as close to and almost behind Jensen all the while. “Great view.”  
  
Jensen pulls the sleeves of his black jersey up to his elbows and feeds Jared’s dependence by pulling him closer to himself and leading him to the couch. The way they sit right next to each other, their limbs touching as much as physically possible, it’s too cute for words. Kyra bites back a smile and turns away to gather her professional self.   
  
“So, I’m guessing we made a lot of progress yesterday?”  
  
The men look at each other, and for a second it feels like they’ve forgotten she’s even in the room. Just as her heart starts to melt, they start sniggering and giggling like a bunch of doped up teenagers.   
  
Kyra rolls her eyes. “Anyone want to fill me in?”  
  
Jensen looks away to bite back his laughter and Jared is the one who tries to respond to her. “We just came here to thank you, Doctor Sedgwick and to – wait a minute.”  
  
Jared sniffs and looks around, and his eyes land on the ashtray sitting by the balcony door.   
  
“You let him smoke in here, don’t you?”  
  
Jensen looks guilty, and so does Kyra. Even the minor burn on the sole of her right foot returns with a vengeance. She abruptly clears her throat. “It’s so strange – you don’t look so tall in person actually.”  
  
Jared gasps. “Excuse me?”  
  
And that sends Jensen into fresh fits of laughter, changing the subject successfully. Takes awhile for them to get over the silliness and Kyra can see how easy it is to break the ice with Jared Padalecki. It’s because he tends to do it pretty much on his own.   
  
“So I take it you guys talked?”  
  
“Yeah, we talked.” Jensen pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket and messes with it as he speaks. Anything to not have to look into Kyra’s eyes right now. God, is he blushing?  
  
“And he cried,” Jared added.  
  
“I cried? You cried. All damn night.”  
  
Jared tries to look completely affronted. “No I didn’t. You’re such a liar, Ackles.”  
  
“Alright, fine,” Jensen appeases, leaning back and resting his palms on the couch behind him. “We both cried. And ate tons of chocolate. Did our nails.”  
  
“And we logged on with fake aliases and wanked all night!” Jared adds eagerly.   
  
Kyra raises her eyebrows.  
  
Jensen squints at her. “You don’t know what wanking is?” And then turns to Jared. “She doesn’t know what wanking is. Jay why don’t you explain to her what wanking is or she’ll think we’re a couple of perverts who post jerk-off videos on the internet.”  
  
Kyra joins in with her soft chuckling.   
  
“It’s basically bitching and whining about anything and everything on the online blogs and fansites and stuff – so we bitched about the show and its loser plot…”  
  
“- and its sucky actors and its sucky ending…”  
  
“- and we told everyone how much they all suck too.”  
  
Kyra soon realizes it’s futile to keep track of what they’re kidding about and what they’re serious about anymore. She just pretends to listen, as intently and objectively and  _detachedly_  as a therapist is supposed to. If she’d known a bunch of half-loony actors like themselves was what it’d take to teach her to do her job right, she would have stalked the couple down herself. Yes, half-loony, that is  _so_  a medical term.  
  
“What’s your username?”  
  
Kyra stutters, “I-I don’t have one.”  
  
“You expect us to believe that, sweetheart?” Jensen smirks at her, almost predatorily.   
  
Kyra bites her lip to resist. “Only if you tell me yours.”  
  
Jared snorts. “He’s studlyjackals.”  
  
She smirks. “Of course.”  
  
Jensen mock-scowls at his partner, ruffling his hair. “Thanks, you big babble-mouth. Now tell her yours.”  
  
Jared is happy enough to do so. “I’m hotbodjared.”  
  
She has to laugh at that. “No one expects you guys to have your own names in your aliases, of course. Clever.”  
  
“Okay, your turn.”  
  
“…”  
  
Jensen is giving her the smoking gaze again. “Come on, Doctor Sedgwick. How bad can it be? You can admit you have the hots for us, we don’t mind. Really.”  
  
“Really?” Kyra raises an eyebrow. “You won’t mind being in such close proximity to a  _fangirl_?”  
  
Jensen swallows and looks at Jared, who lowers his eyes for a second but when he looks up he looks calm, and  _sure_. “It’s still hard, yeah, and it will be, for some time to come but… it would be wrong of me to generalize and assume everyone is bat-shit crazy, ‘cause they’re not. Our fans made us what we are today, and God knows we’re very grateful to them. We’re not going to let a couple of bad encounters make us forget that.”  
  
Kyra smiles feeling immensely proud of what these men have overcome together in the past three weeks.  
  
“Alright,” she leans back in her seat and smiles, looking straight into Jensen’s eyes.   
  
“I’m mishasmistress.”  
  
There is pin drop silence for about a second.   
  
“SONOFABITCH!”  
  
At the end of a half hour, Jared is laughing so hard he starts to cough and choke or something and Kyra rushes out to get him a glass of water. When she is just about to step back into the office, she finds Jensen half-reclined on the couch and holding Jared in front of him, between his legs. It’s amazing how the two six feet plus frames fit together perfectly on her little brown couch.   
  
Jared clearly isn’t choking or coughing anymore, just leaning back, completely relaxed against his lover's chest. Jensen’s arms surround the younger man and his hands hold both of Jared’s wrists together in front of his stomach as if holding him captive, but really he just seems to be trying to keep them safe. And he is kissing the side of Jared’s temple, whispering something in his ear that she can’t hear, but it's making Jared grin mischievously.   
  
Kyra sighs, and quietly closes the door behind her to let them be.   
  
Maybe this is their happy ending after all, to hell with what everyone else wants. Kyra smiles and decides to surprise her husband with a call in the middle of the day. The phone rings twice before it’s picked up.  
  
“Kevin? Hey… is this a bad time? Great… oh no, yeah, everything’s fine. I um… I just felt like saying hi…”   
  
  
  
  
  
 **[Epilogue]**  
  


  
Spring tides are Jensen’s favorites. It’s when the earth, the sun and the moon, all three, are perfectly aligned to create the biggest, most sensational ripples in the sea. One might think such a rabid obsession with waves would automatically translate into a love for surfing or sailing or some other kind of water sport. But not so with Jensen.   
  
Nah, he’s too freaking lazy for that. He’d rather just stand here, at the edge of his terrace and let the violent crashing of a gazillion gallons of water compensate for the silence within.  
  
“Jensen, would you  _please_  put that damn thing out?”  
  
The irritated voice brings Jensen back to solid ground, and he turns towards his boyfriend waiting impatiently by the glass door. He can’t quite cross his arms against his chest yet, but tries anyway.  
  
“Thought you said you were gonna quit, man.”  
  
Jensen shrugs guiltily and stubs out his cigarette. “This one’s gonna take more than a few days, sweetheart.”   
  
Jared rolls his eyes and stalks back in, and Jensen quickly follows, biting back a grin because he’s never been this happy to hear Jared complain before.   
  
“So are we doing this or what?” Jared drawls as he settles onto the living room couch.   
  
“Absolutely, man. We’re doing this.” Jensen claps a couple times and takes his intended place beside Jared, their thighs lined up from toes to pelvis and through Jensen’s steel gray cargos and Jared’s blue sweatpants, the heat is bound to build up pretty damn quickly. Jared wiggles his eyebrows (comically) suggestively but Jensen chooses to put a little distance between the two instead.   
  
“Not now, baby. We got work to do.”  
  
He’s not going to let either of them chicken out now. It’s four days later, four beautiful,  _wonderful_  days later. And Jensen wishes they could do this forever – hide from the real world and all their responsibilities, their parents, their ex-girlfriends, the network, the fans… hide in Jared’s embrace forever. But it’s one wish that, even if it could come true, wouldn’t be healthy for either of them – least of all Jared. And his boy agrees.   
  
Jared needs to face his fears, and he needs to do it now.  
  
They both sigh at exactly the same time, as they stare at the Cisco telecom set on the coffee table before them.   
  
“Who’s first?”  
  
“My folks.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Jensen swallows and dials the San Antonio phone number he’s known by heart for five years now. As the bell ring echoes through their gigantically empty suite, Jensen reaches for Jared’s trembling hand and grips it. Hard.   
  
**  
  
Twenty five minutes later, Jared is stretched out across the length of the couch, his brand new Kindle 3.0 resting against his propped up knees. He uses the tips of his bandaged fingers to operate the controls and when they fail, he tries to use a stick of Twizzler clasped between his lips as a pen instead.   
  
Jensen walks in from the kitchen with two Coronas in hand. The speaker phone is still on, the sound muted at this end but the beyond-angry male voice at the other end of the line has been at it for awhile now.   
  
“Dude, your dad can whale.”  
  
Jared smirks around the candy in his mouth, “Good thing your folks are already clued in about your bisexuality, huh?”  
  
Jensen shrugs – that was a struggle he went through alone, years before he knew Jared existed. Now he watches Jared go through his own battle closely, and is relieved to see that with the worst part behind them (breaking the news), he doesn’t seem so bothered after all. Like he’d been expecting this reaction for years now and he is only glad to have it done and over with.   
  
“This is your fault, Ackles! Your goddamn fault! I knew from the minute I laid eyes on you that you were going to be a bad influence on my son. You have sullied my son’s innocence in the worst way possible. You’ve stolen his virtue…”  
  
Jeezuz! Jared rolls his eyes and Jensen chuckles, remembering the last time he stole Jared’s  _virtue_  which happened to be only a few hours ago.   
  
Jensen had, as every morning, helped Jared in the bathroom, and after a shower and a shave he’d shoved him into a white fluffy robe and deposited him back into the bedroom before going back to shower and change himself. Of course, the kid decided to do exactly what Jensen  _forbade_  him to do and promptly fell back into bed. Jensen came out of the shower dressed in a fresh pair of sweats with a towel in one hand rubbing his spiky hair, and shook his head.   
  
What’s a guy to do? He’d crawled back into bed himself, smirking, congratulating himself for the lust-ridden befuddlement on Jared’s face as he slowly came to, to Jensen’s fingers slicking up his insides and Jensen’s expert mouth suckling at his ball sac, slurping and lapping and licking away like he’d been at it for hours.   
  
Jared had smiled and stretched languorously, letting Jensen throw open the bath robe and mount Jared’s legs onto his shoulders. It happens to be Jensen’s favorite position these days; this way he can lean over Jared and grasp his biceps to hold them down, so he won’t be able to twitch or flail his hands on reflex and hurt himself.   
  
Slowly but steadily, he’d fingered and stretched the tight little orifice open until he’d made space for his hard cock to sink into Jared’s very core. And when he could go no deeper, he’d started to move – slow at first, then building up strength and speed until he was plowing Jared’s ass like there was no tomorrow. When Jared came, spurting his release all over both their chests and stomachs, he screamed Jensen’s name so hard, so loud and so many times that Jensen feared their bodyguards might come charging in through the doors any minute.   
  
Oh yeah, lotsa virtues being stolen on a daily basis here. Sometimes four to five times a day.   
  
Eventually, he figures after all the verbal beating they’ve both taken, it’s time to bring the senior Padalecki down a notch too. “You wanna do it?”  
  
Jared swings his long legs off the couch and to the floor and puts his Kindle aside. He leans over and thumbs the mute button off.   
  
“Dad?...Dad…”  
  
“My son’s whole life, his career, his future…. our family’s future, our reputation…”  
  
“Daddy…. Dad!!”  
  
“WHAT?”  
  
“Mom knows.”  
  
“… What?”  
  
“She’s known for six years now.”  
  
When the shouting changes course toward someone in the background, Jared heaves a deep sigh (but not on relief) and switches the phone off. Jensen hands him his beer then, watching as Jared closes both his splinted hands around it and manages to not spill a single drop as he takes his first big swig of alcohol in weeks.  
  
“I’m sorry, kiddo.”  
  
Jared shakes his head and manages to paste a smile back on his gorgeous face. “They’ll sort it out. She’ll have him come around in a few days, you just watch.”  
  
Jensen sits beside Jared and they lean back to enjoy the blessed silence for a few minutes, before Jared straightens up again.   
  
“So who’s next?”  
  
Jensen grimaces.   
  
“Can't we do this in the end?”  
  
Jared chuckles. “No man, we decided we’re gonna go down the list in descending order of expected hostility.”  
  
“When did I agree to that? You can’t be making all our decisions unilaterally, you know?”  
  
Jared pushes the phone set closer to Jensen. “Come on, it’s only going to get easier.”  
  
“Maybe I should write her a letter?”  
  
Jensen finally complies when Jared looks like he could conk his lover on the head with the heavyweight plaster on his hands. He takes a big, calming breath and dials Danneel’s mobile. It rings twice before she picks up.  
  
“This is Danneel?”  
  
“Hey, it’s me.”  
  
There is a year-long stunned silence on the other end.  
  
“Jensen, hi…”  
  
“How are you?”  
  
“How do you expect?”  
  
Jensen doesn’t know how to respond to that. Jared presses in closer to his side and it comforts him more than anything.   
  
“Look, I called because… I wanted to explain why. We were friends long before we were anything else and Danni, I need you to understand…”  
  
“I know, Jensen. And really, you don’t have to… that is, I can’t… uh…” She seems flushed and hesitant and almost distressed. And then she huffs right into the phone. “Did you not get my letter?”  
  
Jensen looks at Jared, and Jared looks at Jensen.   
  
“Look, I’ve known about you and Jared for awhile now. I’d have to be blind not to! I just… I didn’t think you were that serious and… let’s just say, I get it, alright? I’ve already worked my way through the emotional rollercoaster of being dumped these past four weeks and I cannot, I can’t do this again just so  _you_  can get stuff off your chest. I’m sorry, Jensen, I… I have to go.”  
  
The line goes dead. Jensen finds himself staring at the phone again, not sure if the numbness he feels inside is a good thing or a very, very bad thing. Beside him, Jared is so utterly silent that Jensen can’t even hear him breathe and that jolts him back into action.   
  
“Well, guess you were right,” he sighs and turns towards Jared. Slips his hands under Jared’s armpits and pulls the younger man into a tight hug. Jared promptly rests his forehead on Jensen’s shoulder and lets their bodies meld together for comfort – both give and take.   
  
“About what?”  
  
“The letter would have been a bad idea.”  
  
A second later, Jared laughs, muffling the heartening sound in Jensen’s shirt but hey, he’ll take whatever he can get.   
  
“So who’s next?”  
  
Jared pulls back to look at Jensen, mischief sparkling in his champagne eyes.   
  
“Maybe you should talk to Kane.”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. “The only time I’m calling him is from my death bed to let the motherfucker know that I’ve been a better singer than him all his fucking life!”  
  
Jared sniggers shortly, but he doesn’t quite completely concur. “You know, he could have gone to the press with everything he knows about us – the… the assault, us together…”  
  
Jensen notices how Jared hesitated less this time when referring to his traumatic experience. And yeah, he did also notice that Christian hadn’t tried to hurt him in any way since they parted ways nearly a month ago.   
  
“After all,” Jared adds, fiddling with the bronze buttons on Jensen’s shirt, “one could argue that since we’ve…  _together_ … given the Big Guy Upstairs another chance, surely your childhood best friend deserves one too?”  
  
When did this man-child in his life get so freaking sorted? Jensen bites his lip but shakes his head. “Someday, maybe, Jay… someday.”  
  
Jared nods, “Okay then. Next has to be the network then.”  
  
“That I can do.”  
  
The first number they try is switched off and the second number gets picked up after just one ring.   
  
“Jensen!!!! So nice to hear your voice, my man!!”  
  
Jensen doesn’t bother to point out to Paul Franko, the CW studio executive, that he hasn’t uttered a single word yet.   
  
“Hey, Paul, how are ya.”  
  
The small talk drags on for awhile but then Franko comes right down to business, more than eager to sign the two stars back for a sixth Supernatural season. The show exploded in its last two seasons and the sale of the peripherals like books, clothing lines, miniature Impalas, and RPG games alone has hit a record high for any other TV show on air right now. Not even Lost sells as many action figures as the Winchesters, man!  
  
“Listen, Jensen… we hear what you’re saying and we’re working on Kripke practically twenty four seven right now. He’s about to break, I swear, I'd put my own personal money on that. And get this, I think I can get Nutter to come back for the premiere episode!! It’s gonna be just like old times! What do you say, huh?”  
  
“Uh, I don’t know Paul. It’s not looking too good right now.”  
  
“Oh stop playing me, kiddo. Of course there’s a raise involved! We wouldn’t hold out on you, not after five seasons! How does ‘executive producer’ sound to you, huh? Huh?”  
  
Jensen gulps. Hard.   
  
“Obviously, that title comes with benefits. Lots of them including  _revenue share_. That’s the truckload you’re looking for aren’t ya? Well, you got it! How about it?”   
  
Jensen’s an honest guy. He can’t deny the prospect is looking more and more appealing the longer he lets Franko ramble. He turns to look at Jared, and the blood runs cold in his veins.   
  
Jared looks like he’s drowning in memories of Vancouver, of the set, of the… the crew… memories that are nowhere near happy. Jensen never wants to see that look on this face ever again. He needs to shut this down now, before Jared shuts himself down again.  
  
“The answer’s no, Paul.”  
  
He might as well have bitch-slapped the poor guy. Jensen tries to explain.“I’m sorry, man, but with everything that’s happened… it’ll be too close, too much, too soon. I’m sure you can understand that, right?”  
  
Franko stutters for the first time in this conversation that he probably thought he’d had in the bag. “B-But… I’m sorry I forgot to ask, how is Jared doing?”  
  
Jared snaps out of – wherever he was – at the sound of his name. “Hi Paul,” he drawls, still sounding too spaced out for Jensen’s liking.   
  
“Hey, big Jay!! You’ve been eavesdroppin’? Must be feeling loads better then, huh?” The voice laughs at its own not-funny joke.  
  
“Listen, guys, I get it. You need time, you need a break. Alright, fine! How about… a year long break? Take the whole year! We’ll shoot for next spring instead of this fall.”  
  
Jensen rubs his eyes, almost cautiously. Some days he forgets he doesn’t have to wear contacts anymore.   
  
“Maybe it’s time to move on, Paul. Maybe –" Jensen pauses when a hesitant hand closes over his, and he looks up at Jared in question.   
  
“You’re right, Jen. It is time to move on. I-I can’t run away from the best thing that ever happened to me.”  
  
Jensen swallows. “Paul, give us a sec, okay?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
He presses mute and turns to face Jared. “Jay? You know you don’t have to. We don’t need the show anymore to keep us together, alright?”  
  
Jared cracks a soft smile, and he leans in to kiss Jensen on the lips. “I know that. But don’t flatter yourself too much, Ackles. In this context, by ‘best thing’, I meant the show.”  
  
Jensen can’t help but pout a little at that, and that just makes Jared chuckle.   
  
“Truth is, if I let a couple of whack-jobs stop me from doing what I truly love, they win and I lose. And I’ll always keep losing if I don’t get back up and fight now.”  
  
“…”  
  
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”  
  
Jensen answers with another kiss, longer and deeper, that takes both their breath away. He holds Jared’s face in both his hands and presses their foreheads together.   
  
“I’m so proud of you, Jay.”  
  
“You love me.”  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
Jared smiles shyly, and is about to kiss Jensen again when the studio exec on the phone clears his throat. Loudly.   
  
“Listen, guys, there’s no rush. Why don’t you sleep on it? Alright? I can wait for you to –“  
  
Jensen presses the mute button again. “Alright, a year’s break. And then we’re on. Aa-and as executive producers and everything.”  
  
“Excellent! Done!”  
  
Well, least they managed to make one person on the phone happy tonight.  
  
“So,” Jared starts, lips swollen and red and beautiful, dimples darkening in the pale yellow light of the floor lamps nearby.   
  
“Who’re we doing next?”  
  
Jensen smiles and squints, pretending to think about it.   
  
“Hmm. I think, next… we’re doing  _you_.”  
  
**  
  
Tom Welling, as always, has perfect timing when it comes to the ‘Wincesters’. He calls just as Jensen is rising from the couch and dragging a disinterest-feigning Jared up with him. Needless to say, they let the machine get it.   
  
“Guys, where are you? And why exactly are your cell phones switched off?”  
  
Laughter echoes through the suite as the guys abandon their Coronas for a brand new bottle of champagne and head into the bedroom.   
  
“And you’ve been holed up in that royal fucking suite of yours for three whole days now. Come on guys, I thought we were past that stage?!?!”  
  
  
 ***** END *****  
  
  
 _A/N: Please let me know what you think?_


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